


To Work In The Devil's Casino

by aesthalien, stingerpicnic (ibelieveinfiction)



Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkwardness, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Boss/Employee Relationship, Character Development, Character Study, Developing Relationship, Dry Humping, Early in Canon, Eventual Sex, Exhibitionism, Getting to Know Each Other, Hand Jobs, M/M, Married Boyyss AU, Novella, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Self-Reflection, Sexual Tension, Sleeping Beauty Elements, Slice of Life, Sloppy Makeouts, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Sugar Daddy, Touch-Starved, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, Wordcount: Over 10.000, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-01-26 00:44:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12545016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aesthalien/pseuds/aesthalien, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibelieveinfiction/pseuds/stingerpicnic
Summary: King Dice gets hired to work in the Devil's Casino in hopes of overcoming some financial hardship. Soon his relationship with his Boss begins to bud a rather controversial intimacy.





	1. The Interview

The first thing Dice noticed when he stepped into the Devil's Casino- it smelled like burning cigarettes and every few tables you could hear the sipping of iced water, overhead playing smooth jazz upon the speakers. There was shuffle of people either switching tables or servers making rounds. The rapid blinking of slot machines making their presence known amidst the cheering of a Craps table a few paces down.

Dice clutched the resume in his finely stitched gloved hand, sudden nervousness shaking him as he held the door with the other. One foot planted into the entrance of the casino, while the other outside of it. The abruptness of this causing a minor inconvenience among the influx of varied characters. Among them slew curses at him for blocking the way- clearly more than eager to break their bank.

He sheepishly moves aside, almost bumping into the crowd. He watches the double doors close, tracing the intricate details with his eyes, then coming across the "Help Wanted" poster. He remembers the first few nights he spent at this casino, gambling away his hard earned cash for a quick fix of adrenaline. He always had a fixation with this type of environment- granted he has a die for a head but that's besides the point.

He pats down his dress shirt, and quickly looks over his slacks- he picks at a few dust bunnies. Taking a deep breath, he strides toward the host desk.

"Hello, Welcome to the Devil's Casino! Push your luck and feel even luckier!" She greets with a trained smile, her hands laying on top of one another on the desk. Beside her is a security guard and a teller- they seemed to be in the middle of a conversation.

"Hello, uh..." He clears his throat, "I'm here for an interview?" He didn't intend for that to sound like a question- he begins to sweat.

"Ah yes, follow this gentleman, he'll take you right on over, doll." She pats the shoulder of the security guard. He brings up a finger to signal Dice to follow.

Dice takes this moment to survey the casino, the architecture could use some work- and it definitely needs new carpeting. Soon he is led to a side door that's labeled for staff. The security guard holds it open for him.

"Straight down this hallway- knock three times." And with that Dice is shoved into the hallway, the door closed abruptly behind him. He curses under his breath, fixing his dress shirt rather dramatically.  
A small pep talk later, he finds himself walking toward "the Devil's door, taking note of the framed pictures of a couple of things: the casino's first dollar, certifications, and... portraits? Dice scratches his cheek, unsure of how he should feel about this.

He approaches the somewhat ominous door, he breathes in the enticing scent of cigars, alcohol, and faintly husky cologne. He straightens his bowtie and knocks three times, then waiting for a response.

Dice glances at his pocket watch, he watches it tick for thirty seconds.

He knocks three more times. He's met with a response, and it takes him off guard. "What is it?"

He knocks three more times. He's met with a response, and it takes him off guard. "What is it?" 

The voice was gruff, agitated to say the least- Dice was certainly intimidated.

"I-I'm here for the interview, Sir!" Dice trips over his words, he takes a few deep breaths to calm down.

"Come in," he demanded. Dice slowly opens the door, the heavy wood creaks awfully soft. Dice closes it behind him, taking in the scenery- money bags upon money bags, ashtrays upon ashtrays, and glasses upon glasses. His eyes dart from the impressive neoclassical paintings to the checkered floor, and finally to who he presumes- "the Devil".

The Devil glances up from his counting and holds Dice's figure within his gaze. Boy, he sure was a ten. Devil traces his form head to toe, he puts the stack aside and puts out his cigar. After a few moments he gestures for the interviewee to sit down on the embellished stool across from his desk.

The silence is wavered by the clacking of Dice's Chelsea boots. Devil internally appreciates Dice's sense of fashion.

The Devil leans back into his chair, "State your name," he huffs, crossing his arms. Dice visibly gulps as he watched the fur slightly puff up.

"K-King Dice," his collar suddenly seems to chafe him.

The Devil watches his idle gestures, he taps the desk with a claw. "Resume."

"Oh, yes-!" Dice places his resume in front of the Devil, then placing his hands onto his lap.

The Devil scoops up the resume with one hand, propping his head up with the other. Silence settles in the office, the clock's ticking giving Dice a chance to place his focus on something.  
After a couple of seconds the Devil pipes up, "So King's your first name, huh?" He flips to the next page.

Dice starts wringing his hands, "Yes, Sir," he bites his lip- the overwhelming scent having an affect on him.

The Devil gives a small chuckle, "Stripper, huh?" Dice's cheeks begin to burn. "I uh, have some experience with 'exotic dancing', and bartending..." Dice gave the proper term for his previous occupation in an effort to maintain any sense of professionalism.

"No one in their right mind would put this on their resume," the Devil belittles, "you know that right?" He sits up, clasping his hands together.

Dice picks at his slacks, looking down shamefully, "I felt that, it shows how versatile I am..." He tries to save himself.

The Devil watches him, slightly squinting. "Good answer," he smirks. Dice glances up, only to look back down in embarrassment from the praise.

The Devil places the resume back onto his desk, gaining more interest about the interviewee. He locks his fingers together, placing his chin upon them, bringing himself closer to Dice.

"So what'd they do? Promote you from bartender to, what did you say? An 'exotic dancer'?" The Devil cracks a sly grin, knowing fully well how much he's torturing him.  
Dice tries to keep his composure- be he remembers that he lost it as soon as he entered the office.   
He sits up straight and maintains eye contact. "Yes, my boss noticed my popularity with the  
Guests."

"Here," the Devil brings over a money bag, "count this," he tosses it into Dice's lap.  
"Right now?" Dice gives a perplexed look.

"Yes right now! You want the job don't you?" The Devil snaps. With no room to argue, Dice begins to count, with the Devil watching meticulously.

"A thousand and one hundred three." Dice states after a few minutes.

"A thousand and one hundred five, Dice." The Devil scolds. Dice feels his blood run cold.

"Neither are you fast enough or observant- how can you expect me to lend you this job?" The Devil says aggressively, taping a claw against the wood.

"S-Sir I- please, I..." Dice searches for the words to satisfy the fact he needs this job to pay for the bills in a fluffy manner. "I-I know the environment! I know what kind of clients come in and out, and I'm very good learning the layout! I-" The Devil holds up a hand.

"Stop." The Devil shakes his head, then pinching the bridge of his nose. Dice's posture lowers defeatedly.

"I can't land you a spot as a dealer, albeit Craps or Blackjack..." The Devil looks up in thought, bringing a finger to meet his bottom lip.

"However... we do need a bus boy..." Dice perks up at the news, seemingly the only good thing out of this interview.

"Tell ya what," the Devil points a rather threatening finger at Dice, "I'll give you a spot, you wait some tables and you clean dishes. It ain't much, but it sure as Hell beats nothin'." The Devil sits back into his chair once more.

"Yes! I'll take it!" Dice beams, finally things are looking up.

The Devil brings out a hand, gesturing for them to shake on it.

"You start tomorrow, 5 AM, meet me at my office and I'll show you the ropes, don't be late." The Devil grips his hand during the last part, making Dice flinch.

"Y-Yes, Sir," the Devil lets go, leaving Dice to awkwardly bring his hand back to his lap.

The Devil reaches to his unfinished cigar, as he lights it up he hurries out his sentence, "Now scram, I've got work to do."

Dice quickly gets up, "Thank you so much, Sir! I won't disap-" the Devil interrupts, "Yeah yeah, you're welcome, don't let the door hit ya on your way out." He puffs out some smoke, already back to counting.  
Dice makes his way to the door, ignoring his rude superior's remark. Once he shuts the door behind him, he stands in the hallway, feeling his adrenaline begin to cease.

It rose again at the thought of finally being able to get his hands dirty once more, at a business he's rather infatuated with, and welcomed to a new world of experiences and opportunities waiting for him.

He found himself at that moment, the start of his dreams began here, at the heart of the casino


	2. Introductory Phase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Without namin' names i think two people are pretty keen on each other ;^9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the nice comments!!! *0*

The sun wasn't even up, and yet Dice's alarm clock rang insistently- lighting up the whole studio apartment. Dice groggily stirs half asleep, after registering that his alarm was still beeping throws a hand on top of it.

Completely missing the button, his hand searches the face of the clock, then the screws to the back, then to the top if the clock again. He rubs his eye with a free hand, finally shutting off the alarm. He laid there for a good ten minutes contemplating rather or not he should get up. Faintly he hears jazz flowing in the apartment over- either that or he's still half asleep.

He brings the clock into view, he has about an hour to get ready for his first day. An hour should be more than enough time- enough time to get some extra sleep that is.

But he shouldn't tempt it- being punctual sets the stage for further positive judgement. Well he may have dampened any chance of a good impression yesterday, but that doesn't mean he can't make a good one for today.

Dice rolls out of bed- his apartment is a clash of cozy, messy, and tidy. He blames it on his inexperience with feng shui. Overall he's grateful to have this apartment- much better than the tenements thats for sure. But if hopes on staying here for another month, he needs to get ready.  
Dice fussed over every article of clothing- he switched his dress shirt three times, ironed his slacks an extra two times, and before leaving the house he switched from a vest to suspenders.

He only owned one vest, so it wouldn't make sense to wear the same one every day, his best bet was the suspenders. But he couldn't settle on any suspenders, after all- plaid isn't his style, so he switched to a deep brown set with gold clasps. He always thought of throwing away the plaid set, he only bought as a staple item, something to get his feet wet into business casual wear.

The one thing Dice could appreciate about his experience with exotic dancing was the quick cash. Even on the slow nights he made enough to buy groceries for next week, plus a new shirt. With any extra cash he poured into developing a taste- an expensive taste. Bartending helped him differentiate the tastes of fine wine and cheap liquor- not like he often had a shot on the job, but he could tell the significance based on the pricing and export labels.

Only when he went out on his own to purchase alcohol had he developed his taste buds. When his play money wasn't going into alcohol- which was more so preemptive for bad days, as he's not too much of a drinker- it went to clothing. He often spent the most on shoes, a personal philosophy that a first impression is based on shoes.  
After dressing and grooming, he checks himself out in the body mirror. A few twirls later, he notices that he gained a little in his rear again. He places a concerned hand on his bum- hoping no one stares too much at it.

Once confident enough with his appearance, he makes his way out the door, followed by exiting the building. The Devil's Casino is just across the isle, thankfully he lives close by or else he would've been late by now.

He approaches the Devil's Casino, he idly pushes the double doors open, it seems that business won't be picking up until later. Probably the reason why the Devil arranged to meet at this time.  
Dice goes up to the host desk, thinking that he should probably let the staff know that he isn't a wandering guest.

Before Dice could get a word out the host speaks, "Hi hon, Devil's waiting for you in his office." She gives him the same trained smile as yesterday.

Dice smiles back rather dejectedly, he's a little puzzled as to how she remembered him, but then concluded that he's pretty memorable.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said politely, and heads into the direction of his office.

"Oh and," she says, stopping him in his tracks, "congratulations on getting a spot- it's pretty rare to get a spot here so quickly, if at all..." She raises a hand to her cheek.

"He must've saw somethin' in you," she winks, followed by a giggle. Dice feels his heart palpitate.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding sweetie," she waves a hand, "go on now, don't keep him waiting." She returns facing forward, ready to greet more guests.

Dice messes with his dress shirt's buttons as he closes in on the staff door. Suddenly he becomes self conscious again, he pats down the dress shirt and shines the suspender clasps with his glove.  
He opens the staff door, closing it softly behind himself. He gazes upon the hallway's framed pictures as he approaches the Devil's door.

He knocks three times and waits.

No response again... Dice graces his bottom lip with his fingertips worriedly. He's not late is he?  
Dice raises a hand to knock again before being interrupted, "Come in." The voice was less aggressive than last time.

Dice opens the door slowly as to not disturb his new boss too much- it doesn't help that his heels clack and the door creaks. He stands in front of it, waiting for any indication to come forward.  
The Devil sips on a glass of red wine, finishing it in one gulp. He pours another glass, his free hand rubbing his tired eyes. He places the cork back on, and sets the bottle underneath his desk. He sits there for a few moments longer, he spends the time looking over Dice's outfit for the day. The Devil smirks at the suspenders, but says nothing.

He gets up and stretches, making it slightly awkward for Dice as to being the only two in the office. After a few cracks, the Devil makes his way to Dice. Dice braces himself for a scolding,  
but he's met with a light pat to his cheek, causing him to blush.

"Let's get goin'," the Devil moves him over, his overpowering scent making him choke up. The Devil opens the door, holding it open as he exits, indicated for Dice to follow suit.

Dice follows close behind the Devil, nothing is said until hushed pleasantries are passed when the Devil opens the staff door for him. The Devil's dominating stance guides Dice through the casino, tidbits are thrown here and there but nothing more. Dice is told where to clock in, where the bathrooms are, and where he'll see his schedule along with the others.

Between each quiet moment Dice finds himself mesmerized by his tail. Surely he has no business being a bit of a peeping tom, but its swishing is quite relaxing for him.

When the Devil stops Dice almost steps on his tail. The Devil turns around, sensing Dice was spacing out, and huffs. Dice begins to apologize profusely.

"I'm sorry, Sir! I was listening I-" The Devil brings up a hand, silencing Dice. "This is the kitchen, this is where you'll mostly be." He opens the door to present it. Dice walks in and takes in his surroundings- it felt like kitschy version of a professional restaurant.

"Foodservice is becoming popular with the guests," the Devil scratches his neck, "but who doesn't like a bite to eat with a nice beer." He shares the afterthought, Dice nods in agreement. The Devil has a feeling Dice doesn't really relate to the statement and was just trying to be polite.

The Devil points to the direction of the sink, and walks Dice to the sanitary station near them. "Shouldn't be hard to get used to honestly," the Devil places his hands on his hips.  
Dice thinks that was an invitation to add an opinion, "Yes I uh," Dice wrings his hands- the Devil's scent weighing heavy on him, "I'll get used to it in no time, Sir." The Devil turns to face him, he wasn't expecting a response.

He studies his form- the Devil could guarantee that his Dad sent him a blessing for once. The Devil traced Dice's waist to his thighs- certainly a meal right on it's own. The cut of his slacks were quite form fitting, the Devil decides to save this thought for later.

Dice takes interest in looking at his shoes, waiting for the Devil to give him some kind of solace.

The Devil crosses his arms and sighs, "The cooks will be coming in soon, if there's no servers then you serve."

"Am I the only other server?" Dice asks, he hopes the answer is 'no', he didn't anticipate serving today.

The Devil rolls his eyes, "Of course not, there are two others- I forgot their names, but you'll see 'em." The Devil sees Dice slightly panic from the lack of details.

"Uh, one is skinny and the other's big." He scratches the back of his neck, "but they might switch into being dealers later so keep your eyes peeled." Dice nods, the information easing his nerves.  
They pause for a moment, both at a loss for words.

The Devil looks over Dice again- remembering what he wanted to do in his office.

Soon comes in a chef, the door nearly knocking over Dice, he says an apology under his breath. He stops in his tracks noticing the Devil, and his stern glare.

The chef whips around with a sheepish smile, "G-good morning, Sir!" The Devil ignores the  
pleasantry, "This is a new employee of ours- make him feel welcomed." He gestures to Dice.  
"Ah, yes of course, Sir!" The chef feigns being jovial, Dice gets the feeling that as soon as his boss leaves, he'll have to deal with the chef's piss poor attitude.

Suddenly the Devil brings his lips ear-level to Dice, his breath was heavy with the scent of berries most likely from the wine- and cigars, yet it had a minty base to it, each element playing each other off therapeutically. 

"If there's any trouble, my office is open." He gives a gentle squeeze to Dice's shoulder, then pats it to play off the gesture.  
The moment happens too quick for Dice to fully register, but once he does the Devil already said his goodbyes and was out the door. He felt his face burning and his heart couldn't pump any faster- he swears he felt his groin burn too.

He finds himself alone with the chef. "Just stay outta my way and we're good. I don't want him breathing down my neck." The chef says in a gruff tone, walking past Dice toward the oven.  
Dice rolls his eyes at the supposed threat- he's just glad he's left alone for the moment, waiting out the feeling from before to properly subside.

And before he knew it, it was time to take orders.


	3. Worth the Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dice plunges head first into waiting tables, the sudden rush soon becomes pleasant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late but here you go  
> [EDIT] fixed spelling

Dice made rounds, going from table to table- who knew people were so quick to spend their money? Albeit losing it at the same time. If Dice were to squint, he'd noticed a few guests that present in his previous line of work. He knows that their wives weren't aware of their whereabouts in the local strip club.

Soon enough Dice gets the hang of balancing dishes on his arm. When he finished serving a few tables he got the incentive to place the check book in his back pocket. But even so he often had to readjust it, so it wouldn't slip out ever time he made wide steps. His behind being nearly packed in his slacks making the checkbook ride up the pocket with each step.

After a while he removed it from his back pocket noticing the attention that was being brought to his bottom everytime he passed a table. He had mixed feelings about the comments he overheard.

Between Dice and the chef, the static had settled- his monotone voice remains unbiased as he slides dish after dish. Dice made sure his handwriting was consistently neat with each ticket he wrote up.

While serving Dice notices an assumed employee enter the kitchen after clocking in. Dice internally hopes that he could switch to washing dishes instead at this point. His legs were starting to feel numb and weak, and his feet began to ache.

He rings up another ticket to the window, and sees the employee begin to wash the dishes. Dice curses under his breath.

When another plate is brought to the window, Dice slowly brings his hands up to carry it. He notices how heavy his arms feel now, he's certain he'll give out soon.

Dice reaches into his pocket and pulls out the watch, the check book wedged between his arm and torso. He reads the time, his break is about 5 minutes from now- it seems God has answered his prayers.

Dice gives it his all to not completely collapse as he brings the plate to the farthest table. When he sets it down, a guest strikes up small talk- Dice politely ends it. He pivots toward the kitchen, but the guest tries to bring him back, "Sir?"

Dice uses the last of his energy to muster up the most convincing smile. Suddenly he wonders how the host was able to keep up her smile.  
"Yes? How may I help you?" Dice says with the most docile tone, clenches his hands into fists behind his back, the checkbook tightly packed between his forearm and torso.

"Can you get me a glass of water? I don't want to be parched before a game." The guest folds his hands on top of each other, resting it on the table.

"Yes, of course, one moment please." Dice says through gritted teeth. Dice once again makes a pivot toward the kitchen. He just needs to get this glass and he'll be on his break.

Dice paces to the kitchen, his knees ready to give out any moment from now. He fetches the glass, and goes over to where other bus boy is to fill it with water- avoiding the chef anyway he can.

Dice then speed walks to the freezer, scoping out some ice and dumps it in the glass. On his way out the kitchen he informs the other bus boy on his temporary departure, handing him the check book.

As Dice crosses the floor, getting to the table feel much more treacherous than before. His knees buckle, making him trip over his own to feet, then his own legs betraying him- giving out, leaving him as a haphazard mess on the carpet.

Dice feels his eyes begin to shut as the glass' water soaks into his pressed shirt and slacks. The ice comes into contact with his arms, further numbing them. He faintly hears guests calling for a manager or an owner- anyone to help. Before he hears anything else he passes out.

The Devil exits the hallway and is greeted with worried whispers. A guest calls out the Devil, pass the slot machines to where the dining area is. The Devil immediately shifts through the scenarios in his head, but none of them matched up to having his newest- and admittedly his fast favorite passed out on the ground and wet all over.

The Devil pushes past a few guests, he hears whispers about his rather rare appearance, he learned to tune it out years ago. He gets on a knee, he lifts the taut of Dice's glove, and places two fingers on the wrist's main vein. The Devil silently breathes a sigh of relief.

The Devil steadies himself, preparing to lift Dice up. Before he does he barks for the new bus boy to take Dice's place for the time being. The Devil scoops up Dice bridal style, he fights his blooming arousal from just holding Dice's ample thighs and gentle back.  
The Devil carries Dice out of the dinning area and into the hallway that led to his office. The Devil concludes that it would beneficial to have his newest, and from he can tell, hardest worker to properly rest. That and he gets excited at the thought of having him in the office.

The Devil opens the office door, pushing it open with his back, closing it behind him while eyeing the couch at the back of the office. He locks the door and heads to the couch, he's then reminded of how much of his fur is laced into the couch.

Although embarrassed, he places Dice gently onto the couch. He takes this moment to analyze Dice.

His mouth was parted slightly, his bottom lip is more pronounced than his top lip. The same lip has a lilac tint to it, his cheeks as a light magenta. Either he's always blushing or always cold, the Devil presumes. To check this theory the Devil scans his shirt- he's wearing an undershirt.  
The Devil inwardly curses, he'd totally pay to see some "frosty nips".

The Devil still scans the shirt, noticing some of the wet spots of the shirt drying up in his presence, possibly the reason why Dice's nipples aren't raised. The Devil tries to convince himself that his curiosity is merely in the name of science.

The Devil releases the clasps of Dice's suspenders to the front. The Devil lightly holds up Dice's back with one hand while the other moves south to release the other two to the back. Just as he reaches he stops at the sight of Dice's bottom.

The Devil bites down hard on his lip, ignoring a certain sensation. He releases the two clasps and puts the suspenders aside. He reaches over to roll up Dice's sleeves, he has no choice but to notice his deep dark purple freckles that peppered his arms. The Devil lightly graces his arm in admiration, like a beast to a flower.

He recoils as he sees Dice stir.

Dice slowly opens his eyes, he blinks a few times, his vision dazed just how his mind was. The Devil takes this as the initiative to get some water- but remembers that he has nothing of the sort in his office. The Devil decides to offer the next best thing- a glass of wine.

The Devil helps Dice sit up, placing a pillow between his back and the arm of the couch. The Devil prepares a glass of wine and he hears slight shuffling from the couch. When he presents the wine he sees Dice picking at his clothes.  
The Devil holds the wine to Dice awkwardly, it takes a few seconds for Dice to realize he was being offered something- the fur in his clothes were quite distracting.

"Thank you, Sir," Dice says softly, caressing the wine before taking a long sip that ends with an audible gulp. The Devil absentmindedly wonders how thirsty Dice must've been, then thought about how Dice would be thirsty for-

"No problem," he doesn't let himself finish the thought. "You can rest in here until..." The Devil remembers the front he's suppose to keep, "until your break it over."

Dice furrows his brows, obviously a little upset, but he doesn't say anything to object.

"You did take quite a spill, but time is money as the saying goes." The Devil gets up from Dice's side, and heads to his chair.

Dice rubs the sides of the glass with his thumb. "Hold long is my break?" Dice was planning to go on a ten minute break, but hopefully his incident gives him a little more leeway.

"Twenty minutes," The Devil snaps, he's already settled in his chair, placing the next rucksack of cash in front of him.

Dice can live with twenty minutes. Not like there's any room to argue with the Devil anyway. 

Dice pulls out his pocket watch to keep a note on when the break will be over. He quickly places the wine glass to the floor to tend to the watch. However he's left to discover that the seconds hand refused to move.

Dice gasps, then whispers angrily, "no, no, no..." He tries to pick at the dial, but to no avail, the pocket watch remained unmoving. Dice clutches the watch in his hands. This was the last thing that connected him to his family before leaving to the Inkwell Isles. A tear forms at the corner of his eye, everything just didn't want to go right today.

He roughly wipes away the tear, he softly sniffles, he'll just have to pay for a whole new one. However long that will take is an endeavor on its own.

The Devil's ears perk at the sounds, he swivels the chair around and is met with a puffy eyed Dice. Dice immediately begins to apologize, but as usual, the Devil silences him. The Devil takes a few bucks out of a stack, and hands it over to Dice.

"I-I can't take-" Dice begins, his eyes still watering.

"No it's fine. Think of it as a consolation." The Devil takes the pocket watch out of Dice's hands, and places the cash into them, his other hand cupping Dice's together.

"I haven't had an employee work themselves like that before." The Devil states, pulling away from Dice. "This is the least I can do before sending you out again." The Devil knows everyone tries to give a good impression on their first day, but Dice's certainly takes the cake. If anything the Devil pays attention to- it's hard work, and he knows how to spot it from a mile away. 

Working under your Dad, and managing a pit of fire and brimstone does that to a guy.

The Devil retreats back to his chair, and pulls out a drawer from the desk. He digs around until finding the clock. He places the clock on top of the desk, setting its timer.

"Twenty minutes." He reinstates as he continues counting from where he left off.

Dice lays back into the couch, enveloping himself into the Devil's husky scent. For some reason, it makes his heart race but puts his mind at ease. Two conflicting feelings he's never feel accompanied together before.

Before he analyzes his feelings any further he finds himself drifting off to sleep.


	4. Suspended

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Immense sexual tension

The scent of a burly cigar itches Dice's nose, sneezing himself awake. Dice sits up in the couch, he feels his bottom making an imprint on it- a consistent struggle.

He excuses himself for sneezing, the Devil doesn't respond. His focus was pinned to a new rucksack of cash. Dice could hear the slipping of bills and stacking of coins, the view of the actions being blocked off.

Dice squints to see the clock on the Devil's desk, he has about ten minutes left before his break was over. Dice was never really a heavy sleeper- but he didn't expect himself to have a power nap.

He sits there for a moment, he couldn't go back to sleep- he's wide awake now. He's afraid of getting up and picking at anything, after all he's in his boss' office.

...He's in his boss' office...

Dice's face immediately flushes in realizing on how he got in here in the first place. He checks his shirt, he notices his sleeves are rolled up and his suspenders have been put aside. His face is absolutely burning, he couldn't even fathom that the Devil even laid a finger on someone like him. Both an honor and a concern, really.

Then he checks his pockets, his pocket watch was broken, but there was cash in the same pocket. Dice sighs, remembering how he acquired it, and how he didn't remember putting it in his pocket. The blood rushing to Dice's face was sure to make him pass out again.

The Devil finally pays attention to the ruffling he hears, "You up?" He places down another stack.

Dice's voice hitches in his throat, then clearing it he says, "y-yes." He yanks on his collar, why did it feel so hot in here?

"You still got another..." The Devil taps the ashes off the cigar into the ashtray beside him, "ten minutes I believe?" He takes a long drag to ease his nerves, Dice sees the long stream of smoke the Devil puffs out.

Dice doesn't know what to say, so he stays silent. The Devil doesn't say anything either, presumably due to having all of his attention on counting.  
Dice sits up straight, his fists laid on his lap with his back arching. A posture habit he developed in Catholic school. And if he were to look into it- seemed to contribute to the form of his lower half.

In thought of that, he reaches over to the side of the couch to pick up the suspenders. He realizes the suspenders won't be clasped properly on his backside without the assistance of a mirror.

"Sir?" Dice piques, surely the Devil would have a mirror. The Devil puts out his cigar, almost in agitation, "what?" Dice rubs his wrist anxiously, suddenly feeling like a burden.

"Do you uh," now he starts to feel foolish, "have a mirror?" He takes a few slow breaths in the most quiet way he could.

"No," the Devil simply replies, "what for?" His ears point to Dice's direction.

"I, um," Dice feels his face beginning to burn again, this time out of embarrassment. "To put my suspenders back on." He grips the suspenders nervously.

"C'mere," the Devil waves a finger. Dice eagerly gets up and readies himself by the Devil's side.

The Devil rises from his chair, reminding Dice of his breathtakingly ominous form. Dice's knees almost buckle from the all too known awakened scent and the Devil's large presence alone looming over him.

"If you keep your mouth open like that flies will get in it." The Devil chuckles as he crosses his arms, eyeing Dice.

Dice closes his previously gaping mouth, his hand instinctively covers his burning face. He feels his pants getting tighter- he sincerely hopes his budding arousal doesn't get him fired. It not only be an embarrassing way to go, but he'd have to find another risky business to depend on help paying for his bills.

The Devil gives a sympathetic look, surely he didn't scare his new employee already? He certainly hopes not, the last thing he needs is to have a favorite fear being in his presence.

The Devil tries to make up for this, "S-sorry I'd didn't mean it like that," his hands rises up defensively.

Dice's face flushes more, neither of them recognizing that their misinterpreting each other. Dice's pants get even tighter- Dice is so close to running out the room.

The Devil finally realizes the innuendo, "Oh shit," he face palms, "That's not what I meant either I-" Dice cuts him off, not wanting to be aroused any further, "I-It's okay." His breath is noticeably shaky.

The Devil takes the suspenders out of Dice's hand, making Dice flinch at the touch. The Devil inwardly hopes he's not spooking Dice into not coming into work tomorrow.

"I was gonna put your suspenders on for you," the Devil says apologetically. Dice's hand slowly eases away from his face, gaining more control over himself.

"O-okay," he accepts, on one hand out of desire, and the other on trying to get out of the office as fast as possible. His voice is still shaky, he audible gulps, waiting for the Devil.

The Devil finds himself comparing Dice to a delicate flower once more. The Devil inches his hand to Dice's slacks, Dice's suspenders held in the other.

The Devil hitches a finger around a belt loop, pulling the slacks slightly away from Dice's form.

The Devil bites his lip, trying to put aside the incoming lewd thoughts- he obviously didn't think this through- as usual.

He could only imagine the terror Dice must be feeling right now, but at least before he quits and never sees Dice again, he at least had the chance of touching him. The Devil clasps the front of the two suspenders, he looks just a little south and sees a lump in the zipper area. He quickly dismisses, giving no extra thought to it.

Dice's prayers must've been heard.

"Turn around," the Devil lightly commands, Dice immediately turns around to hide his growing erection.

The Devil stops in his movements upon beholding Dice's rear. He musters up all the strength in the entire world to hurry and finish this.

Upon clasping the suspenders to Dice's backside, the Devil involuntarily catches the aroma Dice seemed to emit. Upon this discovery he hurries to clasp the other suspender.  
Right on cue the clock rings, catching both the Devil and Dice off guard. The Devil shuffles over to turn it off.

Dice unbuttons the first button on his dress shirt- maybe God wasn't on his side today.

Or maybe he was because as soon as the clock's timer was shut off Dice was promptly told to leave. Dice quickly walks past the Devil in regards to the command, his heels clacking against the floor as he exits the office.

Dice accidentally slams the door behind him. He lays his head on the back of it, then slides down, setting himself on the floor of the hallway.

He brings his knees close to his chest, feeling the friction between the slacks and his briefs causing his erection to grow. He grumbles in frustration into his hands. The last thing he wanted in his job was to have his boss accidentally give him a huge hard on. If there's one thing Dice could admit- it's that none of his clients managed to get him this turned on by barely touching him.

Maybe his sex drive was just on high today- at least he hopes so. He really doesn't want another reason to avoid his boss besides the fact that he's the literal Devil.

Meanwhile on the other side of that same door Devil was racking his brain with all the odds and probability. The Devil couldn't pin his attention on a question when his thoughts produced more.

Was it wrong to carry Dice into his office? Was it a bad idea to kick him OUT of his office? What would've happened if he were to have stayed?

The Devil ponders that last question, if Dice were to stay, wouldn't he end up being a fling?  
Did the Devil view Dice as a fling?

The Devil tugs at his fur in frustration- he knew the answers to both of those, it was like rolling boxcars and snake eyes at a craps table in his eyes.

If the Devil wishes to at least have Dice as a loyal employee anytime soon- he has to cool it. Like a ton.

The Devil lights up his cigar to that thought, he'll just have to control his impulses. After all, if things are to go well, he can expect a boyfriend and an upstanding business.

A boyfriend...

The Devil lingers on that, a commitment to something other than money would be nice to have.

That is- if he could even find anyone that would dare to even lock lips with him. And yet all he thought of to fit the bill was Dice.

The Devil swears to himself to take this slow due to not being experienced in an actual relationship.

Being the business man that he is, he should consider taking Dice up as a protege if he wants the new employee to be a formidable ally for what he wishes for the casino to become. Dice certainly has potential, the Devil just has to crack into it.

Yes...the Devil can see the future of the casino being a bright one. All he needs is someone by his side.


	5. Problem Downstairs?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dice takes care of his problem downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brainstormed with stingerpicinic, according to her i only completely about 20% of this chapter's intended plot. *Seinfeld jingle*

Dice's bottom rested on the cold tiles of the hallway that connected the casino to the Devil's office. He notices how much warmer it is in his Boss' office compared to the hallway  
.  
Speaking of the Devil, Dice's hard on still hasn't ceased. He still couldn't fathom how his boss managed to get him so hot and bothered by barely touching him. The Devil's actions was imprinted in Dice's mind, replaying them over and over.

The crease in Dice's slacks that formed while he has his knees to his chest, rubbed against his stiffened member. He bites his bottom lip at the sudden rush. Subconsciously, he moves his legs together to create more friction. Dice let's out a sultry moan before covering his mouth.

It's the most unprofessional thing in the book- to relieve oneself during work. Hell, it's Dice's shift right now, and here he is- rubbing his legs together to get himself off. He felt utterly embarrassed. He refuses to stoop so low- to taint his name on the first day. Rather his biggest concern is doing this right in front of his Boss' door. Yet he couldn't help but be truly mesmerized.

He feels the warm draft kissing his rear, the cold tiles eminenting through his slacks to his taint.

Casting a spell over him, he nearly loses all self control, his hand gaining a mind of its own. It travels across his dress shirt to the hitch of his pants. He huffs desperately as he begins to palm himself through the slacks. He roughly rubs himself, feeling his cock twitch whenever the palm of his hand was firm against the tip.

Dice moans softly as he goes slightly faster, feeling a wet spot beginning to form on his briefs.

He curses when he realizes he'll have to go through his shift with a stain on his briefs. At that moment he knew there was no way of ignoring his cock at this point- might as well go all the way. He rises, almost tripping over, the heat in his groin spreading to his chest throwing him off balance.

He covers his erection with one hand as the other uses the wall as support. He trudges to the staff door, and softly opens it as to not garner any attention to himself. Now where did the Devil say where the bathroom was again? Dice sweats nervously as he tries to remember, the overwhelming heat making it difficult.

Ah, he remembers now, it's near the slot machines. He sticks to the wall, making slow steps toward the bathroom. Hopefully it's a single bathroom, less embarrassment to go around if he's the only one there.  
He pauses as he sees a wandering guest- the guest must have been circling the slot machine area a few times. Perhaps he was look for the bathroom as well? Dice shakes his head, he needs to focus on getting rid of his hard on before this guest eventually sees him.

Dice opens the bathroom door and is utterly appalled that it was not a single bathroom- but instead a public stall bathroom. Dice must've been cursed because he swears he's never had bad luck like this before in his life.

Dice paces to the farthest stall- ready to get this over with so he doesn't have to worry about being fired. He steps inside the stall and locks the door promptly.

He places toilet paper sheets delicately on the seat, yet then roughly unzipping and yanking his slacks down to his ankles. He feels the light breeze kissing his thighs- counteracting the bubbling warmth in his groin. His cock twitches, pressing itself against his dress shirt. Dice quickly unbuttons it in an effort to not get some precum stains on it.

He places his shirt up in the hook of the door, and sits on the toilet seat, getting to work. A gloved hand tugs and pulls on a nipple while the other does the same to his member. He let's the, what he believes, this spell to take over him. He mind fuzzes as his gloved hand creates a soft and tender texture as it strokes his pulsating cock.

Dice moans in pure pleasure, his Boss certainly did a number on him rather unintentionally. Dice picks up the pace, remembering where he's supposed to be right now. It wasn't until his nipples were completely solid and his precum started dripping down the base of his cock that he should take his gloves off; despite the immense pleasure they were able to offer.

Just as Dice brings his gloved hand to his teeth he hears the creak of the bathroom door open. He freezes, in that instant as he feels the hair on his neck stand up- sensing it was the levitating 8 ball guest from early. It seems he finally managed to discover the bathroom- one could assume that he was quite the airhead.

Dice couldn't quiet place where he's seen that gentleman from before- not like he could try with his cock begging for release, wet against his lilac stomach. He decides on trying to keep quiet to hurry up and finish- he didn't expect for it to take so long.

Dice takes off the glove with his teeth and continues to stroke himself. He uses the glove between his teeth as a way to muffle any moans. He slicks the head of his cock, spreading the precum entirely around it. His currently wet hand strokes his cock, producing a lewd noise.  
Dice goes faster, making himself even more turned on- he always got quite aroused from himself. He feels himself getting close, his toes curl as he bites down on his glove, his other hand tugging on his poor little bud of a nipple.

Then there's a knock on his stall door.

Dice freezes once more, fear overwhelming him.

"Hey, uh, are you alright in there? Are you sick?" The presumed 8 ball says, his voice in a bit of a quiver. Dice's voice clogs in his throat- his non cum ridden hand takes the glove out of his mouth.

"I-I'm fine!" He chokes out, "just feeling a l-little under the weather is all." Dice clears his throat, he could hear his heart pounding.

"Oh well, alright, get well soon!" The 8 ball says in a light tone. Dice feels his presence cross over to the sinks. He hears the water rush out and the 8 ball then running his hands under it.

Dice swears he recognizes that voice, for some reason it brings him back to his childhood... Not like it matter right now though, he still hasn't came yet, and this gentleman was standing (figuratively, mind you) in the way of it!

Dice notices how selfish he could be when it comes to things like this. He rubs the base of his cock, hoping the water masked over the sounds of his wet cock.

Dice gets a rush from being near an orgasm in someone else's unknowing presence. Suddenly he thinks of his boss' calloused hand grasping his cum covered cock. This thought alone brings Dice to the edge. He audibly cries out in pleasure, unable to hold back as his cum spurts from his cock on his stomach. He strokes the last bit out, getting it onto his thighs.

Dice sighs in pure ecstasy as the last stream of cum drips out of the tip, gracing his self manicured fingertips. He takes this moment to give himself time to breathe. He hopes that the guest left sometime during his orgasm. It would be rather awkward to face him after what has just happened.

Dice grabs a few squares of toilet paper to clean after himself. He finds himself grabbing for more toilet paper, he forgets how much semen he manages to produce. Once he cleans up, he pulls up his briefs and slacks. Then puts on his dress shirt, buttoning it up to the top. He comes to the suspenders problem again- he decides to improvise for the sake of getting through the work day. He zips up his slacks, and feels his bottom packed firmly within them.

He takes a deep breath and unlocks the stall door, heading over to the sinks. He looks over himself in the mirror- his face is completely flushed. He washes his hands about two times before splashing water on his face. He reaches for the paper towel sheets and dries his face.

He heads out the bathroom door, his focus pinned on finishing his shift with no more interruptions. And that's exactly how it went- almost.

The rest of shift proved to be just as gruelling as earlier, this time he had more energy to tackle it. Making it much easier and fulfilling. However just as he clocks out he's stopped by the other bus boy.

"I'm Chips," he extends a hand toward Dice, "Chips Bettigan." Dice shakes on it and introduces himself.

"Pleasure to meet you, I'm King Dice." He says in a tired cordial tone.

Chips comments on this, "You took quite the spill earlier, it's amazing how you're still standing."

They break the handshake on that, Chips stands holds his hands behind his back.

Dice stiffens slightly, his hand reaching to scratch the back of his neck. "Thank you uh," he nervously clears his throat, "the Boss had let me rest up in his office." Dice tries to remain calm, merely mentioning his Boss shouldn't cause such an affect on him.

"Ah, I see, I'm glad you were given the opportunity to." Chips smiles, Dice notices the slight accent he has.

"Oh well, speak of the Devil!" Chips exclaims sheepishly. Dice turns around to find the Devil standing closely behind him.

Dice takes a few steps back, nearly bumping into Chips, "H-hello, Sir." He squeaks out.

"Hello, Sir," Chips states coolly, his hand brushes against Dice's back as a comforting gesture.

The Devil nods to Chips in greeting, then looks over to Dice. "I need to speak with you- privately." The Devil crosses his arms.  
"Y-yes, certainly Sir," Dice says quickly. The Devil leads him to a secluded spot and turns around to face him.

"I thought about our interaction earlier." The Devil begins.

Dice starts to sweat, his anxiety kicking into full gear. "Y-yes...?" He wrings his hands together, praying to whoever may be listening.

"And, I want to take you up as my uh," The Devil breaks the eye contact in thought, "as my protege, so to speak." The Devil stares back into Dice's eyes.

Dice doesn't know how to take the news, he fumbles over his words a few times trying to form a coherent sentence.

The Devil chuckles at his expense, "Quite the honor right?" The Devil feeds his ego to quiet any self conscious thoughts.

"I'll call you over during your shift tomorrow and teach you a couple of things." The Devil places his hands on his hips.

"Is that a deal?" Dice senses that the Devil has said that phrases many times before- it sends a shiver down his spine.

"Yes Sir." Dice bites his bottom lip, unable to look at the Devil square in the eye any longer.

Dice nearly jumps out of his skin as the Devil pats his shoulder. "Great, you're gonna learn a lot- trust me." The Devil says earnestly, he rubs Dice's shoulder with his thumb.

Dice takes this as cue, "It would be an honor, Sir." He places a hand over his chest and light bows his head when the Devil recoils his hand.

The Devil blushes at the gesture, he shrugs off his feelings to maintain a professional image. "Well, see you tomorrow," cutting the conversation short as he heads to the staff door, "don't be late."

And just like that he was gone. A rush of relief then washed over Dice, finally he could head home.

Dice puts his hands in pockets, pivoting toward the exit. His fingertips graces the money from earlier, remembering that he has one more thing to do.


	6. Take My Money You Geezer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author decides to finish 6 chapters of a whole day despite the fic being a slow build

Dice heftly pushes open the casino's double doors in a hurry. In a hurry to escape from the perpetual embarrassment he kept finding himself in. That, and of course to purchase a new pocket watch by the grace of the Devil's generosity.

He picks up a light jog down the casino's steps, a few passerbys glanced at him but nonetheless minded their own business. Something in the back of his told him they were glancing at his rear.

This and his heels continuously made clicking sounds against the concrete of course; making him a bit self conscious- but he reminds himself that the first impression anyone makes is based on clothing. If anything, the sounds his low heels produced should give an air of aristocracy. After all, if his clothes are the very thing that contributed to his confidence- he should only be advised on how good it makes him look.

At that thought Dice is subconsciously reminded of how mildly successful he was by barely even wearing clothes. He couldn't be too mad about it- after all, he did like the feel of a nice breeze through his skimpy underwear...

Dice brings a hand to his cheek to hide a growing blush at the memory of his not too far behind past. He picks up the pace down the sidewalk, going into a heel-and-toe race. He darts his eyes between the buildings he was approaching. Right by the junkyard should be the rented out apartment of the local watchmaker. Having seen his advertisements upon passing the building many times before. More so the only watchmaker in the Inkwell Isles.

Dice slows into a halt in front of the apartment building, the watchmaker was advertised in the front of it. Dice enters the building and finds his door, knocking promptly after.

Dice reaches into his pocket, feeling for the money. Once the door opens, he's greeted to a tired dry-eyed kettle. His voice had a whimsical edge to it, "Hello, son," his mustache rises- suggesting that he's smiling, "how may I help you?"

Dice shifts awkwardly, the kettle was a good couple of inches shorter than him. He kicks into his habit of clearing his throat, "I uh, wanted to repair a pocket watch of mine." He pulls out the pocket watch, biting his lip sheepishly- praying that it could be fixed. He decided against getting a completely new one- at least not until making an active effort to have the old one fixed.

"Why don't you come inside? I'll need to get a better look at it." The kettle opens the door wider, further prompting Dice.  
Dice rubs his forearm while crossing the door frame. Upon stepping into the apartment Dice is overwhelmed with the scent of cinnamon and antique furniture. He snickers to himself at the sight of the plastic covered couch.

"Go ahead and sit," the kettle says firmly, almost pressuring Dice to be somewhat comfortable.

Dice lowers himself onto the couch, his knees become the same height as his ribcage- it was a low rise couch. Dice's bottom sinks into the cushions, the plastic audibly accommodating for it. Again reminded of how where most of his weight is settled. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly as the kettle heads into another room.

Soon he returns adorning a monocle, carrying the watch in one hand. He sits across from Dice in an armchair, the only thing separating them being the coffee table. Dice scans the table, there seemed to be... homework on there?

"Mind if I...?" Dice queries, the kettle nods softly as he pulls out tools from the side of the armchair.

Dice flips through a few pages of the textbook, memories of his first reading them comes back to him. His daydreaming gets interrupted by the rambling of an old man.

"I have two boys ya know," he tinkers with the pocket watch’s backside- his hand that held the tool was visibly shaking.

"Oh really?" Dice complies with the small talk, mindlessly flipping through the pages now.

"Yes... they'll be finishing school soon," he readjusts his monocle. "They grew up so fast," he sighs contently.

Before Dice could further feign interest the kettle continues. "Once they finish I want them to get into woodworking. It's too dangerous over here..." He says more so to himself.

Dice pauses, "woodworking?" Any jobs for it would be at the other end of the Inkwell!

"You don't agree?" The kettle's eyes meet Dice's suspiciously. Dice softly rubs his legs together anxiously, "I just... thought that woodworking would be better pursued-"

The kettle cuts him off, "On the other side of Inkwell?" He gets into the mechanisms of the pocket watch. "Precisely why I want them to..." Dice gets the same unnerving vibes that his own father gave off.

"Tell me, son, what are you pursuing? Or wish to pursue?" Dice begins to sweat, he hopes this isn't a trick question.

"I uh, I'm not sure..." He says softly, the kettle has his eyes trained on the pocket watch.

Dice gets the feeling that his answer wasn't the right one. If his father were the one asking, and if Dice were to give that answer- he would hear a disappointed "my poor lost son."

Dice looks down at his shined shoes, rejection weighing on his shoulders. He then rethinks his answer, surely he wanted to do something that gave him what he always strived for.

"I... want to be a manager someday." He says confidently, his hands were balled up into fists that rested on his lap.

"I hope you become one then, son." The kettle says earnestly.

After a few tinks and tool shifting, the kettle gives a decrepit sigh. "Bad news..." He begins to say.  
Dice's heart drops, the tears within him welling up. "I can't fix it, I haven't seen a watch like this ever since I was a boy!" He wipes away the sweat gathering on his forehead. "They don't make pocket watches like these anymore- if at all!" He takes of his monocle, and reaches over to pat Dice's hand.

"Don't worry son, I can sell you a pocket watch if you'd like." The kettle sheepishly promotes, he gestures to Dice the case of pocket watcher.

The kettle rises from the armchair and walks over to it with Dice following suit.

He pats a hand on the glass, "pawned from the residents of Inkwell themselves!" He rest his hand on Dice's back, "all for a low prices too!" Dice couldn't help but smile.

Dice surveys the pocket watches, if he were to get one it has to either met or go above the standards of the passed down pocket watch. When browsing the selection he suddenly stops and beholds what he deemed to be the perfect one.  
The pocket watch beheld a deep gold rim that had incrusted dark blue gems. The chain and glass themselves appeared to be finely polished. The times displayed in a neat roman numeral standard.

Dice points to it through the case, "I want that one. How much is it?" He says hurriedly. The kettle chuckles at his eagerness.

"That's quite the pricey one, has real sapphire in it, son." He tries to warn Dice in concern of his wallet.

Dice pulls out the money the Devil gave him to persuade the elder. Perhaps he only didn't want to part ways with it- nothing a little cash couldn't fix.

"Here, may I have the watch now?" Dice says with a bit of impatience, practically shoving the money into the elder's hands. Dice always finds himself acting like this when it came to purchasing articles of clothes.

The kettle gives out a hearty chuckle, "Alright, alright, you sure do remind me of my boys..." He makes his way behind the case, unlocking it promptly.

He opens it and carefully scoops up the pocket watch. He places it in its own protective case before handing it to Dice. Dice clasps the case, his heart leaping in joy.

"Here you go," the kettle smiles as he heads to the door, opening it for Dice. "Pleasure doing business with you son," he prompts.

Dice's eyes were glued to the new item he beheld, it takes a moment to realize he's supposed to be leaving. "R-right, thank you, Sir!" He quickly makes his way out the door and soon the apartment building all together.

Dice clutches the case, not wanting to lose it as soon as he gained it. He makes his way home, where he could properly gush in its glory.

Speed walking in the direction of his apartment building, he feels a buzz from the purchase. Like any other he makes, he had a strong desire to pose with it- get a good feeling for it in his hands.

He never thought of the day where he would inwardly praise the Devil for answering his prayers. 

Dice catches a chill- strange how he's quick to praise the Dark Lord rather than his omnipresent counterpart.

Dice's sudden uneasiness subsides when he approaches his apartment building. Having been on his feet all day he decides to use the elevator. Within it's comforting silence, Dice begins to unbutton his dress shirt, rather quick to settled.

Upon approaching his flat, he pulls out his keys and opens the door. He's greeting with the comforting scent of lavender and fine linen. He heads straight for the body mirror placed in the corner of the studio, right by his mattress.

He steadies himself in front of the mirror, and opens up the case. He dances the pocket watch's chain through his fingers, the fine gold giving him goosebumps. His eyes trace the edges of each sapphire piece, utterly enchanted. He weighs the watch into the palm of his hand, the other locking the chain's latch to his belt loop. He looks into mirror as he points his feet forward while arching his back- posing with the watch.

A blush forms on his face as he does an over the shoulder look, he couldn't help but appreciate his bottom sometimes. When he finishes a few poses he puts the watch back in the case, not wanting to scruff it before even using it.

The next thing on his mind was to scrounge up a dinner and get ready for the next day.


	7. Cards and Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2.5k words about these two's blooming romance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR CONSISTENTLY SENDING SUPPORT

Dice wakes up to a cool breeze through his window. He waddles himself in the covers, one look toward the window and all he saw was the bleak darkness. He wonders why he has to go to work before the sun is even up. The question answers itself when he remembers that he works in a casino.

Dice rises out of bed and shuts the window, he brushes off the leaves that managed to sneak in. 

He's more than eager for the warm weather to kick in- not typically being one for the cold. 

Crossing over to his mini fridge, he pulls out a mason jar of tangerines to eat as he gets ready.

He dresses himself with a green spaded pair suspenders, and a standard white dress shirt. He careful slides himself into the dress pants- not wanting to stretch out the seams. It would be embarrassing to explain to his tailor that his thighs ripped his custom fit pants again.

After dressing himself he looks over the outfit in the mirror a few times. Once satisfied, he bears a down coat and his new pocket watch then heads out. By the time he gets to the casino, the developing frostbite seemed to vanish. The casino had so much heat pumping through it's vents Dice felt as though he was in Hell itself. Not like that would be too far fetched granted that the Devil owns the place.

Dice gives a brief hello to the host and makes his way to clock in. Upon doing so he checks the bulletin board for his tasks for today.

An unnerving sigh escapes his lips when he reads he has to wait tables for an hour. Then he's off to training, and after that he can anticipate his break. He wrings his wrist contemplating his training. He'd rather wait tables for another hour than to be in the alluring presence of his Boss.

He feels the thread near his zipper loosen as his mind ponders about his Boss. He inwardly scolds himself, the day hasn't even started yet and he's fussing over his Boss.

Within close proximity appears Chips, Dice turns his attention toward Chips as an attempt to calm his groin.

"Howdy," Chips greets, Dice wonders if he said that stereotypically or earnestly.

He settles on being cordial, "Hello," he steps aside for Chips to view the board.

"I'll be dealin' for a bit today," Dice could hear the excitement in his voice.  
"All the dishes are cleaned, by the way," Chips pats Dice's shoulder, "felt a little sorry for your spill so I did ya the favor." He gives a warm smile.

"Thank you," Dice says while gently pushing Chips' hand off.

"I mean it," he scoffs awkwardly, inwardly cursing at Chips for even laying a hand on his pressed shirt. Not like Dice could be too mad though, Chips had good intentions, and his slightly disheveled look could tell a few things.

"Well, I'm off, hope the Boss treats you well," Chips states referring to the training.

Dice nods in response, initiating for Chips to leave. Watching Chips leave toward to playing tables, Dice heads to the dining floor.

He doubts for anyone to arrive for a bite to eat at five am, but who is he to judge.

He stands by the entrance to the kitchen waiting for a guest to sit. Dice taps his foot impatiently, finding his current mood ironic considering that he was hoping for this to happen. However he settles on making the tables presentable in case the Devil started making his rounds.

Dice goes table to table straightening the cloths and folding the napkins. Within each napkin pocket he places the silverware inside, a little touch that makes the casino much classier. Dice knows how much he'd put into the casino to give off a classy aura he's always dreamed of working in.

Taking a glance at his new pocket watch, he sees that he successfully killed about thirty minutes. If thirty minutes could go by when he's tidying up the dining area he'll definitely do it more often.

After putting his pocket watch back a guest finally wonders into the area. And with the Devil at his side.

Dice feels his heart sink as he watches the Devil charm the guest, holding her at the small of her back into the area. Supposedly leading her to a table, as she seemed to be a bit "tipsy".

Dice clasps his hands tightly as he watches the Devil pull out a chair for her to sit. Overwhelmed by a sudden sense of jealousy and the need to being ill fortune upon her. Dice bites the tip of his thumb, watching her being too touchy with his Boss.

Dice's jealousy is put aside for embarrassment when the Devil waves him over. It takes a few seconds for Dice to get his feet to move and not make a fool of himself- at least not now.

The wave is followed by a snap then a whistle, a universal sign of impatience. Dice scurries to the Devil's side, his cheeks tinted with a soft pink.

"Y-yes, Sir?" Dice tries to keep his composure.

"Mind takin' this lady's order? When you're finished it'll be time for your training." The Devil adds the end with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Dice places himself to the guest's side to make way for the Devil's departure.

"How may I help you, ma'am?" Dice says through gritted teeth, his jealousy trying to get the best of him.

The woman stumbles over her words a few times before settling on ordering "just chicken." And of course with a glass of water. Dice slides out his notepad from his back pocket, tearing off the page crumbled by his behind before writing down the order.

Dice pivots toward the kitchen, but stops in his tracks when he sees the Devil leaning against the wall across from the dining area- watching him. Dice quickly tears his eyes away from his Boss and eyes the ground as he walked to the kitchen window.

Dice slides his notepad into his back pocket, with each step he feels it rising, trying to escape it's constraints. Dice places the ticket on the window sill and rings the bell for the chef. He stands by the window readjusting the notepad. A blush creeps on his face when he remembers that his Boss was still watching him.

Dice folds his arms, waiting for the order. Once it comes he speedwalks to the guest. Placing the dish on the table he notices how small it really was. Due to this he decides to write up the check, seeing how she'd finish in a few bites.

Dice internally praises himself at successfully predicting this, as she readily hands him the money.

Another guests places themselves at a table, however Dice was anticipating for Chips to take his place by now. The least Dice wants is to waste the Devil's time.  
Dice quickly takes his order and delivers his dish, the same happens as with the woman. Dice writes up a check for the guest, once the money placed inside the checkbook, he turns toward the Devil. The Devil in turn waving a finger over to summon Dice.

"Wait," the guest abruptly stops him. With Dice's back still turned the guest makes a swift move in placing a tip into a back pocket- followed by a light pat to his bottom.

Dice's face turns red at the intrusion, and further reddens when the guest states, "I think I was blessed with a waiter like you."

Dice's hands rush to cover his face, and muffles out a "thank you", practically running to the Devil for recovery.

Once Dice reaches arm's length with him, the Devil roughly tugs him by the arm.

"Stop flirting with the guests, Dice." The Devil says while nearly dragging Dice over, grumbling under his breath. Inwardly hoping to be the first to tap that.

Dice opens his mouth to begin defending himself but decides not to as to deter from getting in trouble. He fears a punishment as the Devil's claws sink into his arm as he's being dragged to his office, almost tripping over his feet a few times.

Upon reaching the door to his office, he releases Dice from his grasp uttering a half sincere apology. Unlocking the door, he holds it open for Dice.

After gesturing for Dice to sit, the Devil piques, "Have you ever played a game of cards before?" Dice shifts in his seat as he watches the Devil sit across from him.

The Devil pulls out a deck of cards from a drawer. Dice rubs his inner thighs nervously, becoming acutely aware that this must be some sort of a test.

"Yes I..." Dice begins, watching the Devil's fingers that seem to magically shuffle the deck- leaving Dice's statement in the air.

Watching him shuffle sets Dice back to when he went through quite the rebellious stage in Catholic School. Where just bearing playing cards made you giddy- feeling like an experienced adult by just rubbing your thumb against the card. Young Dice had his own personal favorite cards- dubbed as his lucky cards for whenever he won playing against any other rebellious students. Of course having such a thing in your possession posed the potential of a ruler spanking- but in all honesty those made the experience ten times better for Dice.

The Devil picks up his sentence, "You have?" Dice is snapped out of the trance, continuously rubbing his thighs to comfort himself.

He goes to meet his Boss' eyes- only making himself quickly look away. "Yes- my father was a bit of a gambler so he showed me a bit," he pauses in his rubbing at the thought of his father.

"Good... that's good," the Devil licks his fingers to deal the cards, "you ever play a game of blackjack?"

Dice begins to tense up. After fixing his posture, he reaches to pick up his hand- but he immediately drops it.

The Devil feels a pang of guilt, hoping that he isn't scaring the poor employee. "No need to feel... anxious." He accidentally hint about his worry.

"Would wine ease your nerves?" He offers quickly to cover up his own personal revelation.  
Dice nods his head softly, rubbing his thighs together feeling a bit pressured. The fabric in this pair of slacks not agitating him like the last one. He rubs a gloved thumb over his cards, as the Devil rises from his seat.

Dice watches the Devil walk over to his cabinet to retrieve the wine and glasses. The Devil then returns to the desk bearing the said items. Dice notices him pour slightly more wine for himself than Dice, as if he was more nervous than the latter.

The Devil places the filled wine glass into Dice's outreached hands- their fingers brush together at the exchange. Dice gets a chill from the touch of his Boss' rather sharpened claws. The Devil readily sits back into his chair, not wanting to delay the training any further.

"I'm the dealer- as you can see," he sips some wine, then clears his throat. "Now, what's the possibility that you'll win this hand, Dice?" He states with a neutral expression, slowly swishing around the wine with a claw.

Dice shoots up at his name, "I uh, I'm not sure, Sir" he says shamefully, picking at his slacks now.

"About 43%," the Devil answers deliberately, making shame further weigh heavy on Dice.  
"Do you know what that means?" The Devil questions, he stops swishing the wine to fold his hands on top of each other.

Dice recalls the times he's played with his father, "That you have the cards in your favor?"  
"That's right- automatically you should know that as a dealer- the cards are always in your favor." The Devil takes a sip of his wine.

"Especially when-" he flips over his card, "you have a soft seventeen," his hand bore an ace of hearts and a six of of diamonds.

The ace counting as an eleven in this case. Dice's hand grips a thigh nervously, not knowing how ro respond.

"What do you have?" The Devil prompts kindly, sensing Dice's awkwardness.

Dice's voice comes out shakey, "Fifteen..." His other hand reaching to loosen his collar.

The Devil laughs at the hand. "Would you like insurance?" he teases- knowing fully that they weren't betting.

Dice awkwardly laughs at the supposed joke, he then falls back on his charm, "No thank you Sir- I don't need insurance." He flashes a trained small smile.

The Devil pause as he watches the smile go just as quickly as it came- Dice's plushed lips were slightly chapped he couldn't help but notice. Then he realizes why they're chapped once Dice immediately bites his bottom lip softly.

The Devil catches himself after that he's been staring at Dice's lips for a solid thirty seconds.  
He shakes his head, feeling a blush creep up on his face. "Hit, stand, or split," he sips his wine eagerly to mask his weakness to Dice's lips.

Dice sees that he hasn't touched his complimentary wine and subconsciously copies his Boss in drinking it.

It backfires when he nearly chokes as he says, "Stand," the wine unfortunately going down the wrong pipe.

Dice coughs into his elbow sprinkling apologies throughout. The Devil taking in the dilemma in front of him- acknowledging how much of a square Dice was- no pun intended.  
When Dice finishes, be apologizes once more and bites his lip as a way to scold himself.

"Are you okay?" The Devil says jokingly, collecting both of their hands and putting them to the side.

"Y-yeah," Dice says, tugging on his gloves.

After a beat the Devil says, "I'd say we're finished for now," he peers over his clock. "Got another ten minutes, though." He taps a claw against the desk in thought.

Dice expected for the training to be much more in depth, but then again he'll be back here tomorrow. Perhaps to get a run down for a different casino card game. Maybe even-

"Tomorrow I'll survey you at a blackjack table." Dice nervously swallows at that, not feeling very prepared suddenly. His knowledge of the cards from his rebellious years leaving him.

In an effort to regain them and to bask in his Boss' intoxicating presence, he says, "Can tell you me more?"

The Devil stops in the middle of drinking his wine at that. He lowers his head as he smiles, hiding his eagerness- the wine barely aiding in that.

"Of course," he deals another hand for himself and Dice.

Then next hour or so the office is filled with the slipping of cards and banter between the two. Each hand varying from general card and probability knowledge to side details about everyday life. The two unintentionally becoming more natural with each other after every sip of wine. 

Unknowingly craving the other's presence now and for the rest of their lives.


	8. "I'm Never Washing this Again."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dice deals at a Blackjack table for the first time under the supervision of his Boss.

Dice goes through the run of the mill routine of getting ready. Slipping through a pressed pair of slacks and pair of red suspenders. He shines his dark red low heeled shoes as he reflects on his eased conversation with his Boss. He couldn't help but smile at the memory of just yesterday. His training becoming more of a bonding session after each hand was dealt. Each winning hand and sip of wine delving into a more eased conversation.

Dice mind still clearly saw the way his Boss swishes his wine with his claw, the way how his eyes were trained in the cards, the way he flicked away the ashes from his cigar. Dice feels his face redden as he continues to shine his shoes.

He remembers feeling a pang of disappointment when it was time for him to leave. Just when he was being to feel light on his feet. Perhaps his Boss knew his employee would soon reach his limit and didn't want to deal with a drunk employee.

Dice feels his heart pound at the reminiscence of watching the Devil shuffle the cards into their shoe. So easily the cards seemed to glide through his fingers, only to be dismissed with him saying, "It's all in the wrist."

Dice fumbles with the button of his slacks mindlessly as he lingers on this memory. The way the Devil's piercing red eyes flicked to Dice's as he took one last drag from his cigar. Puffing it absentmindedly into his direction while putting it out. Dice's face being hit with a waft of smooth tobacco, making his face tingle at the sensation.

He shutters, reliving that moment. Oh how he loved that tobacco scent, it seems his Boss had a favorite taste for his cigars. Besides the possibility of a nicotine addiction, of course.

Finally when slipping into his gloves he thinks of their handshake. A fine juxtaposition of Dice's soft finely stitched gloves against the Devil's abrasive leathery hand and sleek claws. Dice felt more respect for his Boss at that moment- despite his brood exterior he still seemed to maintain a somewhat professional appearance. Another reason to unconditionally admire his Boss. Dice smirks at his own dismissiveness, but nonetheless hurries out the door.

He paces to the casino, his pocket watch in hand. The watch practically told him there was no sense in rushing, but who wouldn't be in a rush to meet up with the Devil?

Dice recants this, surely any sane person would say otherwise.

He pushes past the double doors, bringing the crisp autumn air with him. Making his way to clock in, he wonders where he should hang his trench coat. He couldn't wear it while working- that would just be unprofessional and give the wrong impression for both him and this establishment. As he slowly unties the belt for the trench coat, he's greeted with his Boss.

"Here early I see," the Devil states, his hands resting on his hips.

Dice nearly jumps out of his skin but replies keeping his tone even. "Yes Sir, I'm uh," he pauses in unbuttoning his trench coat, feeling the sting of the Devil's stare.

"Eager to work?" His Boss finishes for him, crossing his arms smugly.

Dice fumbles for a bit, bringing a hand to hide his mouth. "Y-yes, Sir."

The Devil chuckles softly at Dice's expense. "Good answer," he brings a hand toward Dice, "I'll hold onto your coat."

Dice quickly finishes unbuttoning, followed by unzipping his trench coat. He has a bit of trouble sliding out of the sleeves from trying to rush himself. The Devil watches every little movement, making Dice feel naked for a solid twenty seconds before handing over the coat.

The Devil hitches the coat over his forearm, he brings a claw up to gesture for Dice to follow him to his office. Dice follows close behind, flicking his eyes between the gentle swish of the Devil's tail and his coat in said beast's forearm. Dice internally hopes that his coat gets some sort of special treatment. As in, gets to be hung up in his Boss' office.

Not that Dice wants his coat to be fermented with his Boss' scent. He just doesn't want his fairly expensive coat to be at the hands of thieves and pickpocketers.

Yeah that's it.

Dice bites his lip at his own befuddled reassurance.

Soon they approach the Devil's office door, followed by a heavy creak when they step inside. 

The Devil walks over to his armchair as Dice waits in front of the door, awaiting instruction.

The Devil flops Dice's coat into the armchair, followed by, "This is where you'll put your belongings." He rummages through his desk drawers and pulls out packs of decks.

Dice notices how he doesn't see any other coworkers belongings in the Devil's office. Dice blushes at the apparent favoritism.

The Devil walks him out of the office and toward the table Dice will be playing at today. The Devil shows him the shoe holder, and guides him on how to set it up. The set up is quick and easy, requiring minimal effort for the both of them. The Devil ushers Dice to be seated, and hands him three packs to shuffle.

As Dice opens the packs while dismissing the joker cards, the Devil explains how this table was a new installment. Particularly due to the guests crowding around the Blackjack tables, therefore a new shoe had to be inserted.

Dice nearly dozes off listening to his Boss' low hushed voice during his explanation. Shuffling cards to his tone proved to be more than relaxing.

Soon the two finish shuffling their decks and inserted them into the shoe holder. The Devil pats Dice on the shoulder and excuses himself. Dice assumes it's grab a cigar or wine- better yet, both.

The young man sits up, arching his back, patiently waiting for the Devil's return. No guests seem to be in sight, a few of course buzzing near the slot machines. Dice taps a finger onto the felt, tracing each thread.

Dice jumps from the sound of Chips voice.

"Howdy! Looks like someone made it to the table!" Chips places a hand on the table, almost leaning over Dice.

Dice gives a curt, "Hello," already waiting for the conversation to be over. It's as if he could never get a moment's peace here.

"Seriously, one day of trainin' and you're already dealin'? Gotta give it to you for that." Chips brings the other hand to rest on the side of his hip.

Dice laughs courteously, "It's only for Blackjack," he shrugs his shoulders, "I haven't been trained for any other game." Chips gives him a funny look.

"The Boss gives each new dealer a game that fits them, ya know?" Chips stands up straight, folding his arms. "There must be somethin' about you." Chips looks him up and down. Dice doesn't know how to respond.

At his silence, Chips continues. "Actually, I would've thought to see you at the Craps table," he laughs.

Dice scowls at him at the seemingly prejudice remark.

Chips notices this and quickly waves a hand, "Not that because you uh," he readjusts his hat, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to uh-"

Dice cuts him off, looking away, "It's fine."

He then piques with, "Maybe I got Blackjack because I'm lucky." Dice slides two cards from the shoe holder, he flips them over, revealing an ace of hearts and a jack of spades- a blackjack.

Dice nearly chokes on his breath at his own unintentional smoothness.

"I'd say you are..." Chips glosses over the hand with a twinge of envy. Chips reaches to the chips compartment and rolls them around in his hand. "Maybe it's beginners luck," Chips spots the Devil approaching in the distance.

Dice feels as though Chips is trying to degrade him in some way. "We'll see about that." Dice ends the conversation promptly, trying to avoid any confrontation.

The Devil appears by Dice's side, subconsciously laying a protective hand onto his shoulder. Dice bites the bottom of his lip at the intrusion, feeling the Devil's fingertips through his dress shirt.

"Chips, make your way to the Texas Hold 'Em. Chat on your break." The Devil unnervingly says. His dominance emanating even in his relaxed position.

Chips quickly places the chips back, clearly jarred. "Yes Sir," Chips turns around like a shamed puppy, and heads over to his table. They watch Chips walk away in unison.

"He wasn't bothering you, was he?" The Devil says, his voice laced with concern amongst its usual hardy tone. His hand mindlessly gripping onto his employee's shoulder.

Dice shakes his head, "Just a little talk." He folds his hands on top of each other in his lap.

Dice knows of these 'talks' almost too well. One of things risque business teaches, it's that any conversation is a test of your tenacity and intelligence. He didn't expect Chips of all people to approach him in this way, but everyone should be expected to.

Afterall, being a new employee and a fast favorite of the Boss in a job that has competitive pay is sure to rake in the worst.

The Devil sees a recurring guest brush through the entrance. He points in the guest's direction to alert Dice.

The Devil gets closer to dice, being eye level with him. In a whispered tone he says, "Use those three words in enchantment. Sell them a dream of winning thousands." Dice shivers at the Devil's hushed voice, he prays that he can keep himself together for another three hours.

Dice shuts his eyes and focuses on the command. His focus gets interrupted at sense of approaching energy to the table.

Dice's heart drops at the sight of the guest.

"Good morning," the 8 ball greets, his exchanged chips in hand.

Dice knows this voice, the same voice that-

He feels the pit of his stomach pinch up, shame and embarrassment creeping under his skin. Not wanting to finish that line of thought, yet he couldn't help but piece the puzzle together.

This 8 ball in particular- not only attended catholic school with him, but even heard him cumming to his Boss in this very casino's public bathroom.

Dice feels a rough pat to his back, the Devil was urging him to respond. Dice clears his throat, yet it still comes out shaky. "G-good morning, Sir."

Dice never thought that in a million years that the subject of his sick fantasy and the witness of said fantasy being in his presence at the same time at this very moment.

"H-how is your day so far?" Dice swallows hard, hoping that the 8 ball doesn't recognize his voice.  
"It's alright..." He says, watching Dice deal their hands. His eyes travel to the Devil, but then shoot back to the cards- scared of the chance of a hex being casted.

"Hit, split, or stand?" Dice says in a more confident tone, his hand placed delicately on top of his cards.

The 8 ball was dealt a total of seven. He sighs at his immediate bad luck.

"Hit," he says dejectedly. He looks up to see Dice with a gentle smile when he slides out the next card from the shoe holder.

The Devil sparks up his cigar, taking a drag as he watches the game. As he puffs out a trail of smoke, Dice subconsciously breathes it in readily. Dice bites the bottom of his lip at the heavy scent, rubbing his legs together.

The 8 ball gasps at his next card. He didn't expect for his luck to turn around so fast.  
Dice voices comes out a bit sultry as he brings a hand to cover his crotch. "W-would you like to stand on that seventeen?"

Something clicks in the 8 ball's head at the sound of Dice's voice.

"Hey... weren't you that guy that was sick in the bathroom stall a while ago?" The 8 ball taps a fist to the table, initiating his stand.

Dice flinches over his cards at this. "I..." he begins, swallowing hard, "I don't know what you're talking about." Dice can already feel his Boss' piercing glare.

The 8 ball pauses in this thought as he watches Dice reveal his hand, he beheld an eighteen.

Dice's hand reaches for the 8 ball's bet, but hesitates when he hears him say, "Yeah I remember, you didn't sound very well. I hope you feel better by now!"

Dice doesn't know if the 8 ball is torturing him or being genuinely nice.

The Devil brings himself into the conversation. "You were sick? Since when?" He takes a long drag, eyeing Dice.

Dice deals the next hand, "I wasn't really sick." He tries to brush it under the rug. Realizing this won't be enough he adds, "I just wasn't feeling very well for a moment."  
Dice then tries to change the subject back to the game, "Hit, split, or stand?" The 8 ball peruses his hand and promptly states to hit.

The Devil picks up on this, bringing back his original question. "Dice, when was this?" He flicks his ashes into the ashtray, watching Dice's dainty fingers trace the cards.

"Uh, when I fell..." Dice trails out, feeling that day's tension ease into his groin.

The Devil darts his eyes back to the game, blushing at the memory. He sees Dice rub his hand against his thigh rather anxiously. The Devil takes a few steps back to not impose himself onto Dice.

After a couple of hands the 8 ball seems to get that he isn't quite suitable for this game.

He plays for one more hand, but as soon as he's dealt his hand he sighs dejectedly. Dice gives a comforting pat to the table, reassuring the 8 ball that his next few hands would more than likely be in his favor.

This alone keeps him playing, with Dice added assurance and smooth small talk, the casino pockets more than half of his money.

A couple of hands soon turn into an hour, then two hours, and finally three.

The Devil is more than astonished to see a first timer keep a guest at a table for three hours straight. Not even just this guest, but two others Dice managed to rake in with his charming nature.

When Dice's shift comes to an end, he courteously informs the guests to make their way to a neighboring table. Instead of going home with their new winnings, they make their way to the next table to just as quickly play it out.

Dice rises from his seat, feeling his bottom ache from being in the same position for too long.  
"That was incredible," the Devil praises, patting Dice on his back.

Dice feels a blush creep up on his face, he looks down, appearing standoffish.

The Devil guides him to his office to collect Dice's coat. On the way there Dice suppresses the urge to stretch in front of his Boss. The praise alone bringing a tinglingly yet airy sensation throughout his body.  
When he's handed his coat, the Devil brings a hand out for a shake. Dice promptly shakes his hand, biting the bottom of his lip as he counts the seconds this handshake takes.

He has the feeling that this one lasted longer than last time.

The Devil says his goodbyes, wishing Dice well on his way home.

On his way out the casino's door, Dice immediately took the opportunity to smell his coat.  
He inhales deeply, has a slight pause, and exhales in ecstasy.

He secretly plans on never washing his coat ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you marie-dreamland164 [tumblr] for proofreading ;^*


	9. Earn Your Keep to My Heart?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> self reflections

A week has passed now, but of course with the constant activity it feels like a month.

Tonight Dice has a night shift, including a brief meeting with the big man himself. Dice dedicated the week to avoiding his Boss, not everyone wants experience dealing with a teenage crush everyday.

Yet all that distance didn't seem to help- he still found himself in awkward situations, and he still felt his Boss' eyes scan him whenever there were rounds to be made. Sure it became easier to approach his Boss, but Dice is also sure approaching the Devil is never easy.

Dice clasps on his new suspenders today, pondering this. He's getting a little worried about his "fixation" with his Boss. He often dismisses his worry over this with the played out reasoning: he's the Devil- and therefore these feelings must be some sort of hex.

But there's always a voice at the back of his mind telling him that it sure as Hell wasn't a curse.

Dice picks up his pocket watch from his end table, he pauses, watching it tick. He was unnerved at the possibility of being in love with the deity. It went against the teachings and beliefs his was brought up on. Such a conclusion alone would open a Pandora's box of his future.

A future he'd rather think about for another day.

Dice finishes up his routine and heads out the door. A brisk walk later to casino, he then remembers again the meeting he's to have with the Devil.

Dice runs over the conversation they had in his mind, the Devil nonchalantly coming up to him asking for a visit before his shift. Apparently he wanted to know Dice's thoughts on a few things.

Of course this is a huge honor for someone who's newly employed. And it seems his coworkers heard of this as well- word sure does get around.

"Heard the Boss man wants to speak with you," the host greets Dice- he still hasn't familiarized himself with her name.

"Yeah, he does," he tries to keep it short, not wanting another confrontation similar to one he had with Chips.

Upon walking past her, he notices she trails along. Dice stops in his tracks and turns around to face her.  
"May I help you?" Dice asks impatiently, clutching his hands behind his back.

"I, wanted to wish you luck is all, you left so fast." She rolls her eyes, presumably viewing Dice as ungrateful.

"Thank you," he gives a small smile. "I need to get going now, I don't want to keep him waiting." 

Dice tries to appease her, when really all he wanted was to escape her presence.

"I know..." Her eyes trail his form, "be careful in there." She opens her mouth to say more, but closes it again.

"Is there something I should worry about?" Dice straightens his back, testing his boundaries.

"Well I mean, do you know who our Boss is?" She scoffs at his attempt. "But really I... I hear of things that happen in there and I don't want the same to happen to you."

This gets Dice's attention, "like what?" He moves closer to her, sensing the secrecy.

"Just I've seen those go in and a look of regret when they come out. I'm not saying anything about anything," she darts her eyes, "I still get a paycheck here, ya know."

Dice finally understands the implication, and it makes his face beet red.

Out of buried attraction he blurts out, "wh-what makes you think that'd happen to me!?" He realizes what he says, and quickly covers his mouth- embarrassing himself further.

Her eyes widen at this, "uh, sorry for assuming otherwise." She laughs at his reddened face. "I just wanted to give you a heads up, I've seen how you two act around each other."

"Often it's the same song and dance until ya know." She trails on this thought. "Actually, it's often a patron too..."

This makes Dice's heart nearly jump out of his chest, he really didn't want to be reminded of these feelings today. Not like he was doing well avoiding them himself.

"Anyway, go ahead I was just looking out for you," she gives a gentle wave and heads back to the entrance desk.  
Dice does a few deep breaths as he makes his way to the office. Before entering he re-adjusts his slacks and straightens his dress shirt.

The heavy door creaks open, followed by a soft, "You wanted to see me, Sir?"

"Yes, right over here." The Devil points to the seat across from him.

Dice closes the door behind him, and walks quietly to the seat before sitting down. He watches the Devil shuffle a few papers before shoving them into a drawer. This makes Dice question why he even bothered to shuffle them in the first place, but he digresses.

"Seeing how you've been here for some time now," he lights up a cigar, "I'd like your input on some things." He takes a short drag, "like how I said yesterday." He leans back into his chair, waiting for a response as he brings the cigar back to his lips.

Dice picks up on this, "I'm flattered to be in this position, Sir." He wrings his wrists, "but uh, I'm afraid I don't understand."

The Devil rolls his eyes, but then changes his approach. He must be making his employee nervous. "What I mean is, what do you think could be done with the place?" He says in a softer tone.

"Oh!" Dice's eyes light up. At this moment the Devil knew he was going to be given a list.

"Well, from what I've noticed," he begins, "the slot machines could use some dusting, some tables- if not all- should have the felt replaced, the felt already there is a bit old and dirty, the carpeting is a bit dull and worn out, and the dining area could use some work." He finishes nearly out of breath.

"And, uh, not to mention the office can be spruced up a bit too." Dice runs a finger over his bottom lip as he takes in the view of the office.

The Devil expected a list, but he didn't expect a blow to his self esteem.

He takes a long drag. He's grateful for a employee that knows his stuff but still...

"You're not laying a finger on anything in this office," he says dominantly, relying on his age old self defensiveness. He puffs his smoke into Dice's face, a small power move that the latter notices.  
Dice bites his lip, trying not to snap at his Boss' sudden rudeness. After all he did ask for advice. Why must he be penalized for it? Dice only wishes he didn't view his Boss so highly, for this dampened his image of the latter.

Dice takes a deep breath, telling himself that everyone has feelings- and he should respect this. 

On this thought, he decides to try and reach an agreement of some sort. Dice does want to have a hand in renovating the place, and still have to honor of being a presumed favorite.

"By sprucing I mean as in..." Dice pauses, bringing a finger to his lips, watching his words carefully.

"Cleaned?" Dice says in docile tone with a shrug of his shoulders.

The Devil gets even more offended- rather more embarrassed, and huffs exasperatedly.

He puts out his cigar roughly as he rubs his temples. He knows he shouldn't be mad at the truth, but he didn't want some new guy thinking he can take over his, the Devil's, office. Yet something deep inside him wanted to question if this was a power move or a helping hand.

He wishes his Father didn't make him so wary of everyone's honesty. His Dad of course corrected this thinking with his half brother.

Dice tries to restate what he said, seeing how his Boss has been quiet for a while. "What I should say is, I don't mind helping you uh, clean in here."

Dice rubs his arm anxiously, "I don't have to if you don't want me to, Sir. I just want to offer my ass-assistance." Dice stumbles over his slip up. He tries to cover it up, "as a protege, of course."

The Devil visibly takes this into consideration- Dice's assistance that is.

He already knows that he picked this employee in particular, to someday lead his underlings. He posed all of which the Devil wanted, it was just a matter of timing. It's only been about a week since he's been hired.

The Devil just couldn't let his feelings get in the way of logic. Even if it didn't serve him well the first time it has, he still needs to stand by it.

"How about you earn your keep first?" The Devil warms up to the idea, "deal?" He brings a hand toward Dice, promising on his word.

Dice happily obliged to the agreement, and shakes on it.

And he did earn his keep. Hours turned into days, and days turned into weeks. When the Devil became more confident with Dice's expertise, he was given night shifts on a regular basis. He knew how to handle the customers, kept them playing until their money burned a hole in their pockets. Every plate he served was with a smile, every tip making each paycheck more hefty.  
The Devil was more than happy to have Dice on the team. Not only did he improve the mood and inflow of the casino- but their own relationship became something a little more.

The side conversations they had during the slow hours turned into deep ones every smoke break. Piques about certain guests turned into gossip exchange about them and other employees.

The Devil also learned all kinds of things about his employee: he went to catholic school, had strict parents, was enticed by risky businesses... The Devil of course pieced together Dice's sheltered background that led to his current fixation with this environment.

The Devil never tried to be too nosy about his employee's current predicament. But from the information offered- Dice was in a bit of a tight spot. He lived in a small studio apartment- a smart move to better handle his money the Devil would say- and only saved enough extra cash to pamper himself, usually it was new clothes.

Whenever the Devil noticed a new article of clothing, he'd ask about it. For some reason, this has always taken Dice aback, as if he never thought of his Boss having any interest in him. But despite this he always rambled about the brand, which store he bought it from, the markdown he caught it on, and so on and so forth. The Devil would watch intently with admiration, until of course Dice would ask something to keep the conversation going.

It was always hard for the Devil to keep his secrets as, well- a secret. Whenever Dice would look at him with those rather exotic eyes, it was hard to deny him any information.

Dice certainly was quite the catch, the Devil would often find himself thinking.

A catch that certainly shouldn't have to scrub dishes and clean tables...

The Devil takes a drag from his cigar, sitting alone in his office. Maybe it's about time he's earned a promotion. After all, his two hosts aren't the best, and it seems regulars are even regulars because of Dice.

Tomorrow, the Devil will give him the promotion. He deserves it.

Not just because the Devil finds himself thinking about this man so frequently- but because he was a hard worker and knew what he was doing.

Maybe this promotion could even give the Devil more of an excuse to leave his office just to watch his employee work.

The Devil puts out his cigar, he reminds himself to take it slow. He can't be hasty with his feelings for his employee. At this point he somewhat has come to terms with it.

For instance, the Devil knows he's more than willing to make this man whimper and scream his name.

He knows that he's more than willing to make delicate creature blush from a simple compliment.

More than willing to take this elegant flower out to an upstanding restaurant, where every dish racks up into the triple digits.

Willing to spend possibly an eternity with him.

But the Devil also knows that such possibilities are unlikely when he's taking someone into consideration that deserves someone else that's better than himself...

The Devil curses under his breath and runs a hand over his face in frustration.

He can keep himself together, he's managed to do it this long. He can't bring himself to consider approaching this man about his feelings for him- and how he wishes for more. So much more...

The Devil shakes his head at his own expense. His Dad must be playing a cruel joke on him, for he'd never expect for this to happen to him in a million years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all of the support! I read every single comment and it really does not only improve my day- but encourages me to continue updating! Again, thank you all for sticking around!


	10. Just Kiss Already Pls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! Here's my gift for yall! Thanks for all the nice comments- theyre so encouraging and inspiring. I would be lying if i said i dont read them over and over everyday! ♡♡♡

It was nearing the end of Dice's shift. Tonight all he had to do was deal at his designated table, and rack up some cash for the casino. As he deals out a hand to each guest at his table he hears his Boss' voice over the loudspeaker. To put it simply, Dice has to come by the office before he leaves for the night.

When Dice perked his head up to listen in, the guests have subtle chatter.

"The Boss is calling you in?" One guest piques, looking over their hand.

Dice sheepishly nods as he says, "Yes, I don't know why though..." He flips over his top card, and asks the guest the three magic words.

"Split," the guest says, dividing his cards and placing another bet. "I think it'll be good news." The guest watches Dice slide him two more cards.

Dice rubs his thigh, "I hope so," the guest taps on one side of his hand. Dice slides him another card- the guest busts.

Dice pulls out his pocket watch, after this guest he'll have to move the others over to a different table.

"I'll stand on this one," the guest sips the last of his drink as Dice flips over his second card.

Dice chuckles softly, "I'm sorry," he reaches over and takes the guest's bet. "You played well," he gives a soft smile, the guest bites his lip in response.

"I'll keep playing if you're dealing," the guest leans forward a bit in his seat.

"I'm sorry but um," Dice's eyes darts to the other guests, "A new dealer has to take my place, I'm done for the night." As Dice gets up he feels the stare of all the guests- he self consciously fiddles with his belt.

Dice doesn't give his replacement enough attention to differentiate which one it is. His first priority of course is to head over to the Devil's office.

He makes wide strides toward the staff's door and he's quickly meets face to face with his Boss' door.

He takes a few deep breaths and knocks.  
There's that pause again. Dice knocks once more.

A rushed, "Come in," is heard from the other side of the door. Dice readjusts his bowtie before entering.

He closes the door behind him and stands, clasping his hands together waiting for further instructions.

The Devil looks over Dice's form from his seat, the gentle slopes his body has was quite enticing. 

After a few seconds of tracing over the careful stitching of his slacks and the sleek fit around his groin, the Devil catches himself and quickly stands up from his seat.

He clears his throat as he awkwardly makes his way in front of his desk. His rehearsal of this moment coming into shambles just from catching a glimpse at those hips. He gestures for Dice to step forward to give his announcement.

"I have great news for you Dice," the Devil crosses his arms, slightly puffing out his chest.

Dice bites the bottom of his lip, being a respectable distance away from his Boss still doesn't help the view he gets of such a burly chest.

"W-what is it, Sir?" Dice forces himself to lock eyes with the Devil. He wrings his wrists as he tries to even his breathing. He knows he can handle being near him much better than before, yet knowing that he's shared a lot about himself doesn't ease his nerves.

"You're..." the Devil pulls out a nametag of some sort out of thin air. "A host now!" He gives quite a dorkly smile, definitely being more like himself over the course of becoming closer to this man.

Dice suppresses a squeal, excitedly taking the tag. He cups it in his hands, the edges gently poking into his gloves. Dice feels his smile spreading from cheek to cheek.

Dice's eyes meet with the Devil's filled with pure joy, spewing out pleasantries.

The Devil finds himself with the urge to behold his employee, a much stronger urge that has happened to build up.

The Devil breaks from his stoic stance, "You want me to put it on you?" He bites his lip, practically touch starved for as long as he could remember.

Dice gives a soft nod at such an honor. The Devil picks up the tag with end of his claws, carefully he opens up the pin.

With one hand he tugs on a taut of Dice's dress shirt, the other hand sliding the pin through. Dice rubs his thighs together anxiously, the zipper of his slacks creating friction between his member and briefs. The smell of his Boss filling his nose. The close contact reddening his cheek. The Devil's presence looming over him making him bite the bottom of his lip quite hungrily.

Dice's hands reaches for the Devil's waist, suddenly grabbing a fistful of fur as he tries to ground himself into the moment. He's overwhelmed with further arousal and embarrassment when the Devil clicks the pin and smoothes over the dress shirt. Dice gasps at the touch, feeling himself coming undone like the first time they've met. He swears he felt the Devil's fingertips brush against his rose buds.

The Devil finds himself indulging this moment. He goes over this scenario in his head as he hovers over the pin. Here he has one of the most gracious employees that he'd be more than happy to claim as his own, gripping on to his waist as if his life depended on it, while also huffing and puffing like a hot and bothered mess.

Dad has been on a roll lately.

The Devil finds himself torn between two choices. He could take this as an opportunity to finally get a taste of those lips- or he can let this moment pass and take it easy like he planned on doing. But then again how long did he exactly plan to be going easy? When is he going to make his move?

The Devil feels sweat beginning to accumulate on his forehead, this internal battle taking its toll. He needed to make a choice, regardless if it's worth the risk.

Just then, Dice slowly looks up, his lips parted- particularly his bottom one slightly bruised with a reddish tint to it. His eyes shift from a piercing black to a striking emerald green, leaving the Devil breathless at the sight.

The Devil feels his pupils shape into hearts, quite the cliche but he can only blame his emotions. 

He shuts his eyes and brings a hand to rest on Dice's shoulder, the other reaching to grasp the edge of his face.

He leans in, and through pursed arched lips he meets with Dice's soft supple ones.

Dice's face was so flat, but his plump lips made up for it.

The Devil's nose tickles Dice's, causing him to tilt his head, and press further into the kiss. His sharp teeth lightly chewing onto Dice's bottom lip, as his thumb rubs over his cheeks.

Dice huffs as the Devil comes back into the kiss, soft yet wet smacking as they find a rhythm. 

Dice's hands gripping harder onto his Boss' waist once they begin to fully exchange saliva.

A feminine moan escapes from Dice's lips as the Devil sneaks his tongue, softly rubbing against the side of Dice's.

Just then Dice pulls away.

A string of drool connects them, and Dice hurriedly wipes it away. He brings a hand to his crotch the other hand to his chest. "I-I'm sorry-" Dice says in a wispy tone. "I have to go," Dice's flushed face turns into that of a fear. Fear of a memory and the realization of his feelings.

Before the Devil could provide any comfort Dice pushes past the door and into the hallway.

The Devil's heart sinks.

He should've known this would happen. He should've expected nothing more but beauty himself couldn't stand to be in the embrace of a mere beast. A terrifying, gruesome beast, that all of Inkwell is told to steer away from. And rightfully so.

The Devil's sadness is quickly replaced with rage. He tugs on the fur on his head, the age old feeling of inadequacy making itself known. He take out his anger in his office- his only safe space for destruction.

He eases out of his domesticated form, growing limbs and buds eyes. Dumping all papers, glasses, and ashes off his desk- making a mess of the tiled floor. He lifts the bottom of the hefty desk, leaving claw marks along the sides as he tosses it across the room. Damaging his beloved couch and wine rack, causing pools of the red alcoholic beverage leaking onto the floor.

His rage leaves him as a panting mess, not fully satisfied. He opens up a portal to where his anger can be fulfilled properly.

Dice rushes out the staff's door, bringing a hand to his mouth to stifle his sobs. He feels like absolute idiot- again finding himself in the very situation he had with his last job. Letting himself be taken advantage of at the hands of his new Boss. If it weren't for his self defence he wouldn't have made it out of that strip club in one piece- nor with the clothes on his back.

Dice chokes out a sob, as he tries to leave the casino unnoticed. Not until he passes the entrance desk does he realize he didn't clock out- but that's the last thing on his mind right now.

He feels the stares of a few guests, and even the same host that gave him advice not too long ago. A warning of this exact situation.

This makes him sob harder, he wants to be angry so badly. Have someone to blame other than himself, because he knows more than anyone that he wanted that to happen. To find himself locking lips with the same monster his family told him to stay away from. The same monster that'll solidify his damnation- as if he wasn't doing a great job himself. The same monster that he could envelope himself sin and no longer be ashamed for it.

Dice tries to calm himself down as he makes his way to his apartment, the last thing he needs is to look even more pathetic until he gets home.

After unlocking the entrance to the building, and up a flight of stairs, he soon locks the door behind him and crashes on to his bed. Being even more disappointed with him when he finds his erection hasn't completely went down. Nothing more but utter shame, he just to be held and accepted. Even if the Devil had feelings for him, they would be fleeting- Dice knew he was nothing but eye candy to everyone that looked at him. Nothing but another tight hole to pump sticky cum through.

Not like he wouldn't let the Devil do such a thing either way.

He really was pathetic wasn't he? Dice can't help but be haunted by the reprimanding words of his father. Dice has tried time and time again to dismiss the words of his father, his last memory of his parents only being from six years ago. Now and then he'd get calls from his mother, usually to remind him of his catholic roots- to give him any kind of "sense" to go into a more appropriate line of work.

But all Dice has done was prove that his father was right about him all along- that he'd grow up to be a heathen that will fall in love with the Devil himself.

Yet the best thing that has ever happened to him was falling in love with the Devil. At least it was much easier to believe in any kind of God because of his Boss even being able to roam the Earth.

Dice holds a pillow to his chest, bringing his knees into it to comfort himself. If there's one thing he had in common with his Boss, it was that they were both thrown out based on their differing views.

Actually they had more than that in common...

Now that Dice thinks about it... maybe it's not a bad idea that his father was right.  
Dice looks over his gloved hands as he ponders this. Perhaps he should, speak to the Devil about some kind of relationship.

After all, his rather traumatic experience with his old boss shouldn't be compared to his new one. Especially when the Devil seemed to have his best interest at heart.

Should he go back to the casino? Apologize for leaving so suddenly? He hopes the Devil doesn't view him less for this. Well, the Devil has had many reasons to view him less- yet he never did.  
Dice believes that's a tale tell sign within itself.

Dice sits up on his bed, a small squeak as it adjusts to the weight of his bottom. He plucks out the lint embedded into his slacks as he goes over the pros and cons in his head.

It doesn't take long for him to shoot up with a sudden burst of energy and decide on going right back to the casino.

He fixes his jacket and makes his way to the casino. Speed walking down the block and through the double doors. He passes by the host, knowing fully well she gave him a second glance.

As he approaches the Devil's office door, he pauses when he gets a shiver up his spine. An unprecedented energy settling in the office right behind this very door.

Dice swallows hard as he grasps the doorknob, his knuckles turning white as he twists it. Closing the door behind him the energy soon fills his person, almost knocking the wind out of him. His eyes dart around the office- being nothing but in tatters.  
He finds the source of the energy seemingly from an abyss in the middle of the room. He approaches it carefully, feeling more and more fearful yet curious of this. It doesn't strike him until he's at the very edge peering over, that this was a portal to Hell.

Dice brings a hand to his beating chest, unsure how to go about this- he's at his wits end here. He could wait it out until the Devil emerges, but that means he'll have to wait in now an unsettling place to be. Then again if he wishes to be in a relationship with this deity, he should grow accustomed to this feeling- just like how he did with church. Practically the same thing.

Dice edges around the portal, and finds himself next to the couch that's crushed underneath the desk. Dice brings his dainty fingers to the edge of it, and gives just enough force so it falls off the couch. He winces at the sight of the couch, appearing very unpleasant to sit on. Dice brings a worried finger to his lips as he actually contemplates on sitting on it.

He decides to sit, it shouldn't be a big deal anyway considering he wants to sit on one other thing.

Not until Dice finds himself along with this uneasy feeling and his thoughts- that he hears muffled screams coming from the abyss. He feels tears begin to prick at his eyes again as the unsettling feeling toys with his stomach.

Dice reminds himself that if he wants to go through with this, he has to be open to now, the left hand path of things. Although unfamiliar, he can be more accommodating to this than to his counterparted parents.

Dice takes a few deep breaths, he can do this. He takes out his pocket watch, and begins to count the seconds, which then turn into minutes, and soon an hour. An hour of sitting in this room where he's actually became accustomed to the screams of the damned, where at this point only became a mere annoyance.

It would occur to him that maybe he would join them, but then again he shouldn't be worried. Supposedly a benefit with dating the Devil means front row seats, wouldn't it?

He can't believe he just justified his own twisted thinking. Not like it matters now anyway- he's reinventing himself.

A few more minutes go by and Dice finds himself getting sleepy, the rooms energy suddenly becoming quite comforting to him. Minus the screams of course.

The Devil climbs out of the pit, his extra limbs retracting into his torso, his budding eyes shut close for now. He growls at the tight feeling, shutting the portal behind him. He puffs out a deep sigh, but stops in his steps as he sees his beloved half asleep on the torn couch.

The Devil seats himself beside Dice in a quick motion, holding the sleepy young man up.  
"What are you doing here?" His anger masks his concern. His beauty being much more brave than what meets the eye.

"I..." He yawns, covering his mouth politely, "I wanted to apologize..." Dice's eyes flicker, his head leaning onto the Devil's shoulders.

The Devil's eyes dart as he tries to piece together this information. "How long have you been here?" He holds Dice closer, gently shaking him awake.

"I..." Dice brings a hand to the Devil's chest, his fingers grazing through the fur. "I lost track..." His mouth opens wide as he yawns, the Devil bites his lip at the sight.

"Do you need me to take you to your apartment? You shouldn't be here." The Devil lifts Dice's head, tracing his features.

Dice's mouth becomes ajar once more, as if begging for skin on skin contact. "I'm sorry for leaving," he clutches the Devil's fur. "I want to be with you." The Devil witnesses the eye color shift once more- truly an exotic creature.

Finally validating this statement in his head, a grin spreads across his face. "You... want to be with... me?" He couldn't even believe the very words he was saying.

"Are you sure?" The Devil asks with genuine concern. Dice does know what he's getting into right? Is he even in the right state of mind right now? The Devil couldn't believe any of this was happening.

"Y-yes," Dice bites his bottom lip sheepishly, a deep red spreading across his face.

"Oh-!" The Devil chuckles, filled with a sense of glee, lost for words. "U-um!" He isn't sure how to further the situation, not having any real experience with this.

"You uh, you don't have work tomorrow right? Wait I mean- of course you don't I give you your hours," the Devil laughs awkwardly. Those eyes now searching the Devil's face with minimal shame.  
"You uh, wanna go to dinner tomorrow?" The Devil holds Dice's waist firmly.

Dice gives him a charming smile, "that would be lovely." The Devil picks up Dice slowly, seeing how his eyelids were getting heavier. "I'll come to your place, say, six?" His hands cup Dice's thighs and his back.

Dice nearly melts into the embrace, almost creating a tent in his slacks- but far too emotionally exhausted to give attention to it. "Sounds perfect..." He dozes off. The Devil rolls his eyes, Dice really was a catch.

The Devil walks out of his office with Dice in his arms. A few side glances from the guests, but they quickly go back to minding their own business when they realize it's the Devil.

As the Devil makes his way out of the casino he greets the host at the entrance desk, her mouth being perfect for catching flies.

It takes the Devil a while to navigate outside the casino- specifically his employee's home. Soon he finds himself at the entrance of the apartment building after circling the same block three times.

The Devil blushes as he digs through Dice's back pocket for the keys, with no help but feeling like a pervert. After traveling a flight upstairs he approaches Dice's apartment door. He turns the knob and notices how Dice forgot to lock the door, rather unsafe of him be he was in quite a hurry. The Devil walks into the apartment- much smaller than he expected, but Dice did tell him it was only a small studio.

With a couple of paces the Devil is greeted to the foot of the bed. The Devil carefully places Dice onto the bed, hearing it creak underneath his weight. The Devil watches Dice's chest rise and fall with each breath. He realizes how creepy this scenario must be, and how this must be an invasion of privacy. He rushes to tuck Dice in, and gives a kiss to his forehead.

He then promptly leaves with a comforting feeling settling in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proof read by pentatomidae-no [tumblr]!!


	11. Date Night with Jimmy Fallon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dice stars in a "get ready with me" video

It’ll be six soon. To Dice that means the three hours he has to get ready is only more like ten minutes. 

Dice runs over a checklist in his head another few times. He didn’t have work today so he spent the whole day worrying about his date.

His date...

With his Boss.

The thought excites Dice- yet infuses anxiety. His heart kicked into overdrive, his legs bouncing up and down- practically shaking his floor bound bed. Dice still had himself draped in his pajamas- but being alone with his thoughts led to him cleaning his studio apartment three times. Showering at least twice, and of course taking more time to shave all areas.

Dice runs his hands down his thighs, his nails dragging the fabric. A vain effort in trying to calm himself down from the giddiness. It’s still jarring to him how his Boss actually had interest in him. But then again that should’ve been evident from the previous weeks he spent getting closer to him. 

How attentive... considerate... protective-

Dice finds the nearest pillow and screams into it, kicking his legs in pure glee. He never felt so liberated before. Sure the first time he stepped onto the stage in the strip club was liberating- but liberating in the sense of reaffirming adulthood. This was the type of liberation that proved anything was possible. That despite his restricting background, his silencing shyness, and his pressed rags- he attracted someone he swear he could only dream of. 

Dice feels the heat radiating from his chest and the swishing in the pit of his stomach. He gives another good squeal into the pillow before removing it from his face. He holds the pillow tight to his ribcage, taking deep breaths, clearly on an emotional high.

Dice abruptly gets up from his bed, deciding to put this positive energy to use.

He quickly strips out of his pajamas, the open window brings in a breeze- usually chilling him, however today energizing him further. His feet makes light tap sounds as he nears his closet, surveying each hanger.

It occurs to him that he doesn’t know how to dress appropriately because the Devil never told him what kind of restaurant they’ll be going to. Dice contemplates the Devil’s character- would he go for a run in the mill establishment or an upscale one? Well for one, Dice knows the Devil conveys himself as a simple being. Then again he did pour a bunch of resources into, what Dice sees, an upstanding business. Dice sees he can’t rely on this aspect of his Boss to predict the type of restaurant., especially since the being in question doesn’t even wear clothes... 

Dice decides on dressing in business casual- cross that- flavorful business casual. Dice slides the hangers down until he spots the expensive untouched vest he’s been harboring for the past couple of weeks. Perfect.

Dice quickly shifts through his dress shirt collection to match the vest, once being satisfied he takes the articles of clothing to his bed. He heads back to the closet remembering that he needs a pair of slacks as well- the Devil can’t see him in the nude. At least not yet.

Dice blushes at the thought, he tries to dismiss it as he shuffles through his pants section, careful to not manhandle the hangers so the clasps doesn’t release the pairs. He stops on a deep purple pair, another custom fit one he put quite a lot of cash aside for with the reasoning that he’ll thank himself later. And he’s more than thankful.

Dice goes to the drawer part of his closet, shifting through the pile of bow ties before settling on his favorite- a brighter purple that pops against the dark he’ll be wearing, but reinforces the white dress shirt. 

It’s not until when Dice surveys his selection on his bed that he realizes that the two pieces that were tailored a while go may not fit him anymore. Dice scratches his cheek nervously, he hopes he hasn’t gained too much. His hand instantly places itself on his lower cheeks. His face burns as he considers how much he’s gained in his rear since kicking into the habit of eating leftover casino food. 

Dice bites the bottom of his lip as he holds up the slacks, looking over the material, rubbing between his fingers. He faces his body mirror while holding the slacks and notices the boxers he’s wearing. If he’s determined into fit into those slacks he’ll need a tighter pair. 

He paces to the drawer and pulls out a pair of rather tight fitting briefs- the kind he says for nights he dedicates to alone time. He then pulls out a pair socks alongside sock garters he saves for special occasions. 

He heads back to mirror and puts on the briefs, adjusting his member as the underwear sticks to his form. He then slips into the socks and snaps the garter to them. He takes a breath before putting each leg into the slacks.

As he brings the slacks over his bottom and to his hips, he sighs in relief. It’s tight no doubt- but not tight enough to make him too uncomfortable.

Before buttoning it he slips into his dress shirt. After buttoning the shirt and patting out any wrinkles, he tightens the slacks around his hips. He beholds the vest before buttoning it around his torso, feeling it slightly restricting his breathing. Dice feels it’s worth it since it accentuates his waistline anyway.

He ties the bow tie in a few seconds, and looks over his outfit. 

He cracks a smile that soon spreads to each side of his cheeks. 

He wiggles his toes as he traces his hands over his body- all he needs now is to dress his face, find a pair of shoes, and some cologne. He makes a mental note to grab his gloves and pocket watch on his way out the door. And money.

That thought intrigues Dice- would the Devil be that much of a gentleman and pay for him? This leads to Dice indulging in a fantasy of the Devil treating him in an extraordinary restaurant. Dice fans himself so he doesn’t pass out.

He goes to his makeup bag and dedicates the next thirty minutes on his standard simple routine. A light blush, gentle eyeshadow, eyeliner, and for today- mascara. He finishes it with a lip gloss that has a tint of pink in it. 

Just as Dice looks over his work he hears a knock on the door- his heart nearly stopping. Was it six already? 

“C-coming!” Dice shoves the makeup back into his bag, almost slipping in his socks as he rushes to the door.

“G-give me one second!” Dice rubs his lips together to spread the lip gloss as he unlocks three different locks on his door.

As he opens the door he’s greeted with his Boss- his fur seems to be more managed than usual. He’s also bearing a bouquet of flowers.  
Dice gently takes the flowers, thrown off by the sudden offering, his mouth left agap. 

After a beat the Devil cuts through the silence that only held Dice’s bewilderment. “I, uh, thought your might like those.” The Devil holds his hands behind his back, hiding his fidgeting.

He looks over Dice, subconsciously biting his lip, not able to focus on one part of him. He simply looked stunning. Even without any shoes or gloves on yet, he still amazed the Devil.

He trails with his eyes over Dice’s delicate peppered hands that held the bouquet. Without thinking the Devil aks, “You have freckles?”

This snaps Dice out of trance, only making him blush further. “Y-yeah,” searching his brain for the write thing he says, “Why don’t you come in?” Dice opens the door more so, holding the bouquet to his chest as he watches the Devil enter.

“I uh, know you've seen everything because of, uh yesterday but-” Dice begins nervously, not knowing where to place the flowers. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you finish getting ready.” The Devil looks over the studio finding a place to sit. 

Dice latches to his arm and gently pulls him to his small shabby dining set up. “Sit here, I’ll be ready in two seconds.” Dice rushes to find a pair of shoes- the Devil can hear a few being tossed.

Dice ties the laces of a pair, deciding to skip polishing them since his date is waiting for him. He paces to get his wallet, gloves, and pocket watch, then reaching to his coat hanger to grab the appropriate one.

“Okay I’m ready, Sir- I mean,” Dice’s blush deepens, the Devil shoots Dice an amusing look before saying, “It’s alright, let’s go.”

Dice covers his face as he follows the Devil out the door, then locking it promptly afterward.

After a bit of walking, the two find themselves in front of the restaurant. Dice wrings his wrist as he gazed over the restauarant. It was so... so...

“Classy...” Dice says in a daze, his eyes darting to each intricate detail upon the entrance. 

The Devil taps Dice’s shoulder, offering his arm. Dice, still dazed, takes his arm in tow as they entered.

The Devil handles with the registration as Dice continues to be further entranced by the embezzled rich golds, deep reds, and shiny blacks. The decorations alone being very foreign and simply unheard of to Dice. Like, a pond? With fish in it? In a restaurant??

The Devil lightly tugs Dice along as they’re led to their table. Dice tries to snap himself out of trance, only put into it again as he walks along the carpet. He focuses on his footsteps to bring himself to reality- and to certainly not to make a fool of himself.

Once seated, they are left with a courteous remark by the waiter and handed the menus.

Dice opens the menu and finds himself stunned that there’s no pricing. After a few minutes of looking over the menu, Dice realizes he hasn’t said a word yet.

As he lowers the menu he meets the Devil’s eyes- seemingly already watching him.

Dice squeaks as he holds the menu back up, his heart pounding at the sight. All that consistent eye contact training he went through seemed to be thrown out the window.

Dice takes a deep breath and lowers the menu again. He clears his throat.

“This place is amazing,” he says breathlessly.

The Devil bites back on saying, “you're amazing,”- and instead says, “It is, ain’t it? It opened up recently and it already has great reviews. I’ve been here before and I thought you'd like it.”

Dice closes the menu and places it on his table mat, rubbing a worried hand over it. “I like it’s just so...” He brings a hand to pick at the side of his mouth, when he remembers his makeup he stops. 

“Pricey looking...” Dice keeps his eyes to the table in shame. “I don’t think I’ll be able to afford one dish before emptying my wallet.” Dice holds himself together, he tried so hard to make this night perfect. The clothes he wears certainly doesn’t speak for his livelihood.

Dice feels the Devil hold his hand, his leathery thumb rubbing over his knuckles before being brought to the Devil’s lips.

Dice bites down a squeal as he feels those same lips that kissed him just yesterday grace his knuckles. Even with his gloves on, he felt the kiss nonetheless.

“Listen Dice,” The Devil’s tone demands eye contact. Dice lifts his head to meet the Devil’s gaze. “Why would I take you to a place like this, and then make you pay?” He gives Dice’s hand a comforting squeeze.

Dice is at a loss for words. “I-I thought that,” he trails off, then picks up a new sentence, “I don’t want you to spend so much on me!” He ends up blurting out. 

Dice’s eyes dart around the restaurant to see if anyone heard. “Relax no one’s listening.” The Devil tenderly tilts Dice’s face back to him to emphasize his next point. “I’m paying, get whatever your like. Even if you don’t finish it’s okay.” 

“May I?” He gestures to Dice’s gloves. Dice nods, too embarrassed to speak. The Devil peels the gloves off of Dice’s hands delicately, then again bringing them to his lips.

Dice counts the seconds, he blushes harder as he counts. 

“Get anything you want, look,” the Devil lets go of Dice’s hand and calls over the waiter.

“Ready to order, gentlemen?” The waiter reflected the classy aura the restaurant emitted. 

“What’s the most expensive dish you have on the menu?” The Devil doesn’t hide his objective, earning a smile from the waiter.

“Our InkWell strip-style steak, Sir. Comes out to around 350 in pricing...” The waiter clicks their pen, holding up the notepad.

The Devil gives a knowing glance at Dice, “Do you like steak?” Dice nods, still stuck on the pricing. 

“I’ll have two of those then.” The Devil glances at Dice’s befuddlement before returning to the waiter. “Two glasses of red wine as well.” 

The waiter walks off with their request. Dice decides to look back into the mention to see what he just ordered.

He reads over the description and finds himself doing so out loud. As he names off each ingredient, his voice wavers in subtle hunger, gasping at the side dish that comes with it, then trailing off in pure desire. 

Dice licks his teeth at the thought of sinking them into a juicy, well seasoned, stomach filling steak. “I’m so hungry and I just ate not too long ago,” he mutters out, rereading the description in ecstasy. 

The waiter brings their wine glasses and walks off again presumably to bring their orders.

“You sure like to eat, huh?” The Devil says slyly, bringing the glass to his lips.

Dice feels his face flush once more, tripping over his words trying to find a good comeback, but all that came out was “ums”, “uhs”, and stuttering.

The Devil places down his glass as he says, “Well all that food gotta go somewhere...” 

Dice could swear that he was about to have a nosebleed. 

Thankfully the waiter returns with their orders, after a brief exchange of pleasantries they’re left alone again.

The Devil looks over Dice as he counts into the steak and stuffs his mouth straightaway. He wonders if he’s doing so because he’s nervous or just really hungry- certainly Dice wouldn’t want to be seen eating so fast, especially all that work he’s put into doing his makeup for today. The Devil assumes that it’s both, but besides that he observes Dice’s makeup further.

Soon he bites his lip watching Dice chew and swallow every piece of steak his delicate hands cut so easily. The Devil quickly takes a longer sip of wine when he discovers himself trying to listen to Dice’s wet chewing, knowing full well that it would be hard to when Dice’s trained politeness keeps his mouth closed.

The Devil slowly cuts into his steak as he watches Dice finish his own. The Devil lifts a forkful of the steak into his mouth as he notices Dice patting his lips now and again with the napkins provided. 

Half way through his own dish he hears Dice let out a throaty moan- clearly satisfied by the meal. Dice leans back in his seat as he sips his wine for the first time tonight.

The Devil’s eyes hungirly watch Dice’s hand travel from his stomach to his crotch, eager to unbutton his slacks. The Devil shoves another large piece of steak in his mouth as he scans Dice’s figure- he certainly was at least a size bigger since when he hired him. 

Dice remembers his manners and quickly apologizes, only to be reassured by the Devil, whose more than happy to have Dice be himself- even in this particular setting. 

They laugh about it, and soon about other things. The first wave of nervousness leaving and instead the built up friendship and romance providing a cushion for the rest of the date. 

Not until when the check arrived and the Devil pulls out a wad of cash before Dice could reach for his wallet in protest was he speechless again. The Devil again offers his arm to Dice as they exit the restaurant.

The Devil walks Dice to his apartment despite Dice trying to shoo him away in politeness. As they approach his apartment door, Dice begins to sweat when he realizes that this is when they say goodnight.

Dice faces the Devil, the dim lighting in the hallway making him appear larger. “I had a great time-” Dice begins, his naked hands playing with the belt to his coat. “And thank you for the flowers- and for paying- and for-” Dice is cut off with a kiss.

Dice brings his hands to the Devil’s shoulder, his nails sinking into his fur, tugging as he leans more into the kiss. He knows how sloppy and hungry he’s being- but he blames it on the wine.

The Devil slides his tongue in, and pulls Dice forward by the wait, closing the space between them. Dice lets out a hearty moan as the heat travels to his groin awakens an member. The Devil feels the tent Dice made in his pants and grabs his waist tighter, wanting him just as much.

Dice dances his tongue around the Devil’s, both enveloping in the taste of seared meat and fruity alcohol. Under the influence of pure lust, Dice rubs his crotch against the Devil’s, his scent intoxicating him further. 

Dice curses and moans under the tight restraints of his briefs and slacks, nearly giving himself a wedgie as he desperately grinds once more into the Devil. 

It becomes too much for Dice to handle. He breaks the kiss and buries himself into the Devil’s chest- still holding on tight as he thrusts one more time. 

“Oh Boss-!” He moans out, thrusting hard against the Devil as he orgasms. 

The Devil’s ears are filled with the sound of Dice’s wet panting, fully aware of how Dice just more or else ruined his most expensive pair of slacks. 

He holds Dice closer, waiting for him to calm down, trembling in the Devil’s arms. The Devil uses all of his willpower to keep his cock within his sheath, and instead focus on rubbing Dice’s back.

As soon as Dice musters the courage to lift his face from the Devil’s chest he becomes embarrassed all over again. “My makeup-!” Dice touches his eyelid, already feeling the missing placement of product. He looks at the Devil’s fur and finds his left over makeup on the spot he buried himself in.

When the Devil looks down to understand the predicament, he laughs, noticing Dice’s makeup on his fur. 

“Sorry I didn’t mean to-” Dice begins, feeling self conscious. The Devil dismisses the apology, secretly more than happy to have physical evidence of this date. 

Dice takes a few shaky steps back, his knees almost buckling. “I- uh,” Dice places a hand on the door, the other covering his stained crotch. 

The Devil takes Dice’s hands and slips his gloves back on, completely dismissing his awkwardness. He then pulls out some cash and places it into Dice’s hands, reminiscent of his first day on the job. 

“To fix the pants,” the Devil chuckles. Dice’s face burns more, money being placed into his hands like that triggering a warm feeling in his chest. “Th-thank you,” he says breathlessly. Dice tends to unlocking the door, before he enters the Devil stops him.

“Have a goodnight Dice,” the Devil smiles wholeheartedly, his hand lightly holding onto Dice’s arm.

“You too,” Dice smiles sheepishly. A small kiss is exchanged before the Devil exits the hallway.

Dice holds the money to his chest as he takes a deep breath. Not soon after closing the door behind him, he crashes onto the bed and dozes off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i spent literally a thousand words on just this dork fussing over his clothes if you dont enjoy this chapter then ascend.


	12. Dont Egg Me On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Devil keeps losing his centuries old cool exterior to mere mortal send help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not dead I'm so sorry

The Devil laid on his couch, going over the events from yesterday.

 

It’s only been a day and the Devil couldn’t get enough of Dice out of his head. That one day fed his hunger- his strive to have more of him. He kept replaying in his mind Dice’s desperate thrusts, beautiful eager moans, balled up fists that displayed a need he’s been waiting to fulfill all this time.

 

At least the Devil hopes that Dice has been waiting for this as much as he has.

 

The Devil laughs at the memory of one of Dice’s neighbors coming up to him. It was when he spent a few seconds lingering in front of Dice’s door, listening to him lock the door and take off his shoes. It was then when he turned the corner did he come face to face with a worrisome mortal.

 

“W-were,” he was visibly shaking, beads of sweating rolling down the side of his face, “you with- with someone on this floor?” He cleared his throat, holding his crucifix necklace that hid underneath his shirt. The Devil found it ironic that someone who calls themselves a follower of his half-brother hid such a thing.

 

“Yeah, I was, what’s it to you?” The Devil finds his calloused hand hitching themselves to the sides of his hips, a taut of annoyance in his voice.

The neighbor takes a step back at the gesture, his knuckles almost white. His voice is hoarse as his hair stands on its ends.

 

“N-nothing, nothing at all Sir...” His eyes trail the direction the Devil took, leading him to behold Dice’s apartment.

 

The Devil, almost reading his thoughts, says “It ain’t your business,” he takes a step closer to the man, “before I make it your business.” The Devil’s hand reaches slightly toward the man, beginning a threatening gesture. The man stumbles backward, his body nearly colliding with the floor, fear crippling his person.

 

The Devil scoffs as he brushes past the man crossing over to the staircase. As he opens the door he feels the man’s pupils tremble.

 

The Devil couldn’t help but get a rather sickening pleasure from the fear he strikes in people. It comes with the disadvantage of the occasional summoning of the Holy Spirit and his half-brother, but hey what can you do.

The Devil shifts the weight on his couch, the threads rubbing in between his furs, causing him to itch lazily under his stomach. Not too soon after his thoughts lead back to his boyfriend.

 

He claws at the couch’s soft cushions, then kneading apart the threads- an old habit he can’t seem to get rid of. The thought of Dice being his boyfriend still left a profound feeling of giddiness upon him, something the Devil still has a hard time shaking off. Good thing he can take refuge in his office to fully in this- unless of course, a particular intrusive employee decides to barge in.

 

He pauses on that thought, the only way to avoid that would be to gush about Dice at home. But for one it’s too hot (simply putting it, might he add), and he has to watch over the casino behalf of Dice’s absence. Giving Dice the weekend off was a perquisite done with favoritism, despite the Devil trying not to. However with Dice off provides more free time the two could be having. Like right now.

 

The Devil’s head perks up, paying Dice a visit isn’t such a bad idea. Without context, it would more so be ‘ditching work to go hang out with your new boyfriend’, which one could say is a bad idea. For instance who knows how well his employees could run the place without a constant force of dominance to steer them in the right direction. Then again, his eldest employees could certainly fill in his shoes upon finding out about his absence. They’ve done it before, the only difference is that the Devil is not only sneaking out of this responsibility to tend to another one- but sneaking out on both!

 

His overthinking proves useless as he begins writing a note regarding his disappearing act. He states a simple “absent” on the paper and leaves it on top of his desk, more than ready to leave the now suffocating room. Bottling up his energy only leaks once a smile cracks on his face, his glee showing through.

 

He sneaks by a few guests, shapeshifting himself to be of a smaller stature, once reaching the double doors he gives a slight tug. The fresh brisk air hitting his face, with a click of his tongue he notes the beginning of winter is on its way. With a brisk walk, he makes his way to Dice’s apartment building, struck with the thought of how unfortunate it would be to run into that man again. Unfortunate for the man that is, and any witch hunt that might be waiting for Dice perhaps.

 

The Devil inwardly chuckles at that as he enters the building, taking a light jog up the staircase. When he approaches the door to Dice’s level, he pauses. What did he plan on doing here exactly?

 

A cold sweat runs down his face at the impending awkwardness this could cause.

The Devil runs through his head one of the worst possible scenarios in his head: ‘Hi I wanted to see you’ he’d say, ‘Oh, hello, haha’ Dice would say, then he would say something like, ‘Well- nice seeing you!’ and Dice would say something really cool like, ‘See you later alligator,’ or maybe-

 

“Oh- hey Dev!” A shaky voice spoke. The Devil blinked his eyes a few times, making sure his vision wasn't playing a trick on him. Once he realized how foolish he must seem for appearing as not so suave as usual- he tries to formulate a response.

 

Releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding, he straightens himself and says, “H-hey..” After a beat, he adds, “Wh-what are you... doing here...”

 

He wants to kick himself.

 

Dice laughs, giving a playful smile, “I live here,” he giggles once more, bringing a hand to cover his mouth.

 

“Oh, y-yeah,” the Devil feels his cheeks burn, his sheepish reply truly crippling all of the stoic outer shell he had. Seeing the visual clue of the Devil’s shyness, Dice picks up the conversation, a twinge of curiosity pulling the side of his mouth.

 

“And what are you doing here?” He tilts his head forward, noticing the Devil still grasping the doorknob and in the middle of exiting the staircase, seemingly frozen in place.

 

“I er-” the Devil scolds himself inwardly, knowing he has to save himself from this embarrassment.

 

He straightens his back once more and leans against the door, slightly puffing out his chest to channel some sort of inner confidence that was left him. “I... came to see you,” he curses himself.

 

Dice takes this chance to tease him, “Well, hello!” He’s certainly getting a kick out of this.

 

The Devil runs a mantra through his head, anything to stop him from fulfilling his embarrassing internal monologue earlier.

 

“Well... nice seeing you.”

 

No pain is greater than this moment.

 

Dice laughs as he delivers the final punch, “See you later alligator.”

 

The Devil inwardly clutches his stomach, falling onto the cold hard ground like a defeated giant, with crows pecking its bleak rugged body he would add very dramatically.

 

After a few seconds, Dice rubs the side of his arm, seeing the Devil motionless filled him with a sense of apprehension.

 

The Devil stood still, dread wringing his face out to dry, sweat dripping as his anxiety swells.

 

Falling from grace had a whole new meaning for him.

 

Just then the Devil grasps a vague passing thought on saving this.

 

His hand shoots to grab one of Dice’s wrists, seeing Dice’s slight discomfort he loosens his grasp. He clears his throat and says, “C-can I- go with you?” His eyes dart remembering that he never asked Dice where he was headed to. “With you to...wherever you're... going?” He bites his tongue, trying to pull himself together.

 

“I don’t mind, I actually just have to go pick up some milk,” Dice says absentmindedly, truly more than willing to spend his store run with his Boss.

 

The Devil gives a slight chuckle, “Just.. milk? Is it that urgent?” He holds the door open for Dice.

 

As Dice crosses into the stairway he waves a dismissive hand saying, “Yes, it is ‘that urgent’, I can’t make dinner without it.” Dice already makes his way down the stairs as the Devil contemplates the reasoning of someone making dinner in the afternoon.

 

But then again how would he know what time people ate dinner. It always seemed to be morning in Heaven, and vice versa- even the casino’s menu has time neutral dishes.

 

As the Devil descends with Dice, looking over his outfit of choice for this errand, he comes up with a startling conclusion. Dice had nothing else to do. Why else would he spend the time to draw on some eyeliner and press his shirt? Who knows how long that took, so that means he could’ve started making dinner at noon. The Devil has enough common sense to recognize that cooking dinner at noon is a crime done out of boredom.

 

As they exit the building the Devil can’t help but want to feed into his curiosity and slight concern over his boyfriend. “Do you always cook dinner at this time... ya know, midday?” The Devil sees Dice give a sheepish side glance, the blush on his cheeks reddening more so.

 

“No I.. just for today,” Dice fight the urge to pick at his face.

 

The Devil laces his fingers between Dice’s, hoping to ease him of his share of embarrassment.

 

Dice huffs, “I had nothing else to do,” he says almost in shame. “Work really gives me something to do,” he lingers on that thought, “on my days off I sort of just... sleep and clean.” He laughs at himself.

 

The Devil considers revoking the days he planned on giving Dice off.

 

“You're starting to sound like a workaholic,” he teases, knowing fully well who’s the true workaholic. Dice is just passionate and goal oriented really.

 

A quick trip to the store was only patronized by the Devil subtle forcing Dice to let him pay and allowing himself to pick out which milk had the farthest expiration date. The site of the milk alone made him acutely aware of how soon his heat cycle would begin- including a pestering thought about the certain stain Dice keeps making.

 

Once they made it back to the apartment the Devil found himself with a strong desire to allow himself in- not without asking of course.

 

As Dice began unlocking his door, the Devil shifts nervously, the plastic bag containing the gallon of milk putting a strain on his wrist.

 

With a small click sound Dice turns the knob, before he opens the door the Devil perks up, “Can I come in? Just for a bit?”

 

Dice turns toward him and rolls his eyes with a smirk, “I was going to let you in,” Dice gestures for the Devil to come inside, holding the door ajar.

 

The Devil enters, taking in the view of the well kept studio apartment, a habit he has certainly developed at this point. As Dice closes the door behind them, the Devil sets the gallon of milk on the kitschy table, noticing the wide array of ingredients as well.

 

“Excuse the mess,” Dice says, self-conscious of his cooking methods, “Please, sit.” The Devil seats himself, subconsciously taking in the scent of Dice’s studio and the food he’s preparing.

 

As Dice tends to the mess, the Devil couldn’t help but watch how he gingerly places and cleans the area- despite the mess directly behind. Used meat trays, sliced vegetables, and plastic wrap littered the counter.

 

The Devil chuckles, rest assured knowing that he made a good decision to ditch work.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He thinks "See ya later alligator"is a cool saying


	13. Lasagna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dice hints that he may be an archaic being, known as Furvious. The Devil is swooned by the thick character developing lasagna and sweetened by and yet gets an upset tummy from the hot coco- sort of like every reader will succumb to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3k, 10 pages ;^*

The Devil covers his mouth as continues to look behind Dice, not wanting to appear rude. The mess of ingredients certainly shows the kind of chef he is, however yet orderly in sense of steps. If the Devil could picture a meal garnering from the ingredients- Dice would be making lasagna.

Just as Dice finishes wiping up the small table, only big enough for two, a strong wind picks up against the window. The repetitive battering could more or less take the windows off the hinges. The wind shoves itself into the room, cultivating goosebumps upon the two in the room.

Dice promptly closes the windows in the apartment, the waft continuous pouring into the studio.

As he finishes with the last one, he asks, “Mind if I turn on the heater?”

The Devil turns around in his seat to see Dice fetching the heater from his armoire, and it’s rather incredibly small in stature.

“Does it even work...?” The Devil asks mostly himself, Dice picks up on the question either way, as the Devil isn’t so discrete.

“Sometimes...” He replies softly, he’s still saving to buy a new one, as winter is steadily approaching.

The Devil is stricken with guilt, to spare his feelings he fits to say ‘I got all the warmth you need’ coupled with a nice pose where he leans back in the chair holding some strong eye contact with his sweet, sweet boyfriend.

“No worries, as long as you're warm...” He watches Dice as he crosses over to the pantry. Going on the tips of his toes, scruffing his dress shoes in the process, reaching to grab an item on the top shelf.

The Devil holds his gaze on his favorite asset, the slight bounce, and shifts in the fabric keeping him interested. Absentmindedly he states, “and I wouldn’t mind keeping your so...”

Dice’s pinkie knocks itself into the hot chocolate box, a small squeak escapes him at the crime his hand committed, watching the box tumble off its shelf.

The Devil locks his eyes with the box, forming a thin band of energy around it, suspending it in the air.

Dice pauses, his hands gripping the counter as he looks on as a shiver runs down his spine. Hit with the returning reality that the Devil, a higher being, is in his presence. He cannot properly describe the feeling that fills him, as he no longer feels a painstaking uneasiness near him- only replaced by nervousness, which is still being smoothed over. This act before him rather solidifies the breaking ties of the Almighty, granted, but more so how much he’s been used to seeing the Devil as an equal. A beastly entity, one who’s lived centuries before Dice’s time, powers of the unknown and handles quite a busy work schedule, is his boyfriend.

Shocking really...

Such a title, position of power, really does speak volumes to Dice, his inner grasps to have more manifested itself into the higher-ups gracing him with this tender some aged being.

If Dice isn’t too careful he’d contribute to his heating up his groin.

Dice’s gentle hands' cup as the box wavers toward him, lightly chewing his lip as the box’s surrounding energy carries a slightly musky scent yet radiated warmth- very telling of its owner. Dice gets a fleeting thought on if all objects possessed by the Devil surrounding energy changes to match him.

“Th-thank you,” Dice stutters out, taken aback by the abrupt drop into his hands. He releases a breath he’s been holding, toying with the idea of what it must feel like to possess such a power.

The Devil feels his awkwardness settling in his stomach. “No problem...” He trails off, scratching the fur on his chest; trying to dislodge his discouraging thoughts that must always apprehend his confidence.

Dice slowly places the box on his cluttered counter.

There’s a beat.

“Can you... do that again?” His curiosity gets the best of him.

The Devil takes this as an opportunity to show off, he sits up straighter in his seat. Watching Dice shift to one side in thought upon looking at the mess on his counter, he asks, “For the counter?”

“Yeah,” Dice turns around stepping aside to have the counter in view.

“Is this a science experiment or an excuse to have me clean your kitchen?” The Devil chortles, amused at Dice’s earnestly curious face- then quickly replaced with flustering.

Sputtering a few times, unsure to properly answer without appearing silly, Dice shouts, “Neither!”

The Devil reframes from quipping as he softly chuckles. He overlooks the mess and the cabinets, and soon enough both are enclosed with the same thin band as before.

Dice raises a hand to his bottom lip, his nose taking in the now surrounding scent of his ingredients and furniture. All at once the ingredients seem to file themselves into the shelves- albeit a few things that shouldn’t belong there in the first place, keeping in mind the one who’s doing this- but either way, Dice was astonished.

Dice shifts in his spot, he’s speechless.

“No I will not do this for your whole apartment,” the Devil quips.

“I can clean my apartment myself, thank you,” Dice rolls his eyes with sass, “One would think you’d use this to organize that room you call an office.” Dice snickers at his comeback.

The Devil blushes, he knew his fur covered nap room couldn’t be looked over for long- especially not with his increasingly detail orientated lover.

With nothing to retort back with the Devil slumps in his seat, his ears filled with Dice’s laughter. Dice returns to the now tidied cabinet to retrieve the hot chocolate box once more, ignoring the sliced onion and parmesan cheese.

Grabbing two mugs, one shorter and the other taller, he sets them aside to reach for a kettle to accompany them. Filling it with water he sets it to boil. As he begins to wait he tends to finish the preparation for his dinner.

The Devil keeps a note on how a stovetop oven works as he watches Dice continue layering the lasagna and pouring some milk on top.

Closing the oven back, Dice puts away the milk, then back to the oven and cranks up the heat.

“It’ll be a while until dinner’s done,” Dice folds over his arms as he peers at the kettle, already it begins to whistle.  
The Devil feels like whenever he would go to check on the Casino’s kitchen, but nonetheless enjoys Dice’s company.

Dice utters an apology as he finishes up the hot chocolate, handing the Devil the shorter mug.

The Devil’s nose scrunches up.

“Yeah I figured you'd respond that way,” Dice laughs, “try it!”

Dice’s candied lips certainly pulled some heartstrings. “Ehum...” The Devil’s voice gets lost in his throat, redirecting his eyes to the mug. His nose flares up as it’s filled with the sickeningly sweet scent.

Taking one more look at Dice, he swears his heart melts- but once he looks back at the mug it twists up again.

Dice leans forward, the Devil feels himself begin to sweat- he can’t tell if it’s from the heater or from the pressure.

He claps his hands around the mug, his claws give a small tap as they touch each other. Raising the mug to his lips, he slithers out his tongue and licks the very edge. He pauses when he hears Dice stifle a giggle.

Almost slamming the mug back down, the Devil’s face gets red.

“What!?”

Dice covers his mouth, “you...” he squints, showing off his laugh lines and tiny creases near each eye.

“You look like a cat!” Dice snickers despite his best efforts otherwise.

That’s the first he’s heard that.

“I- well-” The Devil searches his head for a response, “You want me to try it or not!?”

Dice cackles and abruptly stops himself, “Yes, yes, please try it,” he calms himself down, pressing his thighs together in near excitement.

The Devil rolls his eyes in an attempt to ward off his embarrassment. He raises the mug back up to his lips and purses them.

 

He takes a long sip, registering the taste of the smooth age-old cocoa plant, some sugary additives, and dairy. All three sending him back to simpler times while leaving a tacky warm taste on his palette.

It reminds him of rum.

Dice watches the Devil’s Adam’s apple bob as he downs the whole mug. A small burp with a pleasantry follows.

“...You have more?”

Dice laughs, “I’d like to have some too ya know.”

The Devil flushes, “Oh-”

Dice slides over his mug, “Just a bit.”

With a few sips, the Devil hands back Dice’s mug, feeling his stomach coat itself with the welcoming warmth.

Dice cups the mug in his hands, his thumb running against the side of it. “You wanna head to the bed?” He catches himself, “To relax I mean.”

“Lead the way,” the Devil stands, gesturing to Dice’s bed.

Rolling his eyes, Dice takes a few comically paces and he’s met with the bed. Placing his mug aside he flops onto the bed, the Devil joining soon after.

Dice shifts over to his side to face the Devil, laughing nervously as they hold each other’s gaze. The Devil laces a hand around Dice’s wasting, his claws gently digging into the dress shirt as he pulls him closer. Dice’s hand lays on top of his Boss’ chest, clinging to the tuft of fur. He drags his hand around the Devil’s chest, earning a pleasurable tingling sensation in the back of his head, and soft purring from the other.

Dice feels the Devil’s breath grace his hand, the extra layer of the glove provides warming it further. This warmth travels to the pit of his stomach and flares to his handsy region. His cheeks gain a reddish tint while his eyelids begin to droop.

The Devil finds himself fixated on Dice’s face, from his captivating eyes, to his rosy cheeks, and to those pretty lips of his. The Devil grabs a handful of his dress shirt in response to the swirling in his abdomen.

“You’re sweating,” the Devil points out, a trail of sweat rolling down a side of Dice’s head alongside a small stain forming on his shirt.

“O-oh, right,” he clears his throat, “let me um,” he sits up, finding himself perspiring more so. A passing thought wonders if keeping his armpit hair would conceal any odor or amplify it.

The Devil watches Dice unbutton his shirt, every inch swelling his cock as he tries to keep it settled within its sheath.

Dice fully removes his shirt tossing it aside near his bed. However, it no longer concealed his now raging hard-on.

The Devil props himself up on an elbow at the sight.

Dice’s face completely flushes as he realizes the position he put himself in, his heart nearly bursting from his ribcage.

He tries to speak, but what comes out is a sputtering mess, his mind cloudy and unsure of what would unfold- and rather or not if he was ready. Dice buries his head in his hands, bringing his knees up to try and hide how hard he is.

“I’m,” he struggles to express himself. He gives a frustrated huff, and suddenly locks his lips with the Devil.

The Devil is caught off guard but quickly takes in Dice’s hungry mouth, gracing his hands around his boyfriend’s waist once more.

Dice presses himself against his Boss’ torso, sloppily licking his tongue around the other’s bottom lip, being forward with what he wants. The Devil braces himself against the bed to cater to Dice’s weight, a hand traveling to cup his bottom.

Dice soon finds himself rubbing his clothed cock against his Boss’ leg, gasping and moaning every time he roughly dragged his tip against the knee. Feeling the Devil’s fur poke through his pants, tickling the head of his cock, causing him to begin to leak. The Devil digs his claws into his lover’s back, his thumbpad pressing deep into Dice’s rib cage, leaving a red impression.

Dice abruptly stops his desperate humping to undo his belt, his breath hitching as he unbuttons the inside. Once he unzips, his cock shoves itself past the opening, twitching in encouragement. The Devil licks his lips, watching his lover’s cock bounce as he tries to tear off his pants. The Devil notices how ‘clean’ Dice is, hair almost completely stripped from his balls, stomach, and armpits. Small pricks of hair try to break through on his legs, forearms, and beneath his belly button. The Devil finds himself completely enchanted by how many freckles pepper Dice’s entire body.

The Devil is brought back to present as Dice tops him once more, tearing off his gloves. The Devil is caught off guard when Dice takes his hand.

“I wanted to see how this feels for so long,” Dice’s heavy breaths amplify when he guides the Devil’s hand to stroke his cock.

A long hearty moan erupts from his throat, a sense of accomplishment warming his already thumping heart. The Devil cock continues to pulse, begging to be engulfed in warm sticky heat.

Dice brings his trained lips back to the Devil, getting as much as he could, every inch of his fangs, snake-like tongue, and bumpy roof, making the Devil moan along with him. All the while showing the Devil how to pump his hardened cock.

Dice nearly cums from the calloused textured hand of the Devil, tiny points of pain quickly glossed over with pleasure from the occasional bump of his claws.

Dice makes the Devil stroke faster with a tighter grip, a moaning mess that's soon to blow his load.

To the Devil’s surprise, Dice stops him, sucking in pockets full of air, trying to prevent himself from climaxing.

“W-wait,” Dice’s heavy breaths hitched as his hole gaped, asking for a girthy cock to fill it promptly.

Dice pats the Devil’s lower abdomen.  
The pats turn frantic- and then he pauses.

“Where the fuck is your cock.”

“O-oh uh-” the Devil laughs nervously seeing Dice’s slightly annoyed and frustrated face.

He guides Dice’s hand underneath himself, poking his fingers in with instruction. “Pull,” Dice’s face scrunches as he struggles a bit.

Once the Devil’s cock is free he says, “I know- it’s weird I-”

“I don’t care,” Dice cuts him off, already rubbing the erection, getting it to its maximum length- although it’s current state more than enough for Dice.

“No- wait, Dice,” the Devil didn’t expect to be ignored so bluntly, “I have to explain something,”

“What?” Dice says exasperatedly.

“I, erm, I can’t cum inside you okay?” The Devil looks away sheepishly.

This seemed to trigger Dice, “What? Why?” Dice catches his tone and repeats himself more softly, trying to be understanding. Then he whispers, “Are you not into that or something?”

“No no it’s,” the Devil tries to ignore how awkward this is to have his dick out and having to explain it, it frustrates him to even be cursed with this. “Promise you won’t get upset.”

Dice notices that this is more serious than he thought. He sits beside the Devil, subconsciously covering his cock. “Yeah, I promise.”

The Devil sits up, his erection dying down as his anxiety clouds his mind again. He struggles to verbalize their plight, all of his insecurities overwhelming him.

Dice’s brows furrows, “Are you okay? We can stop,” Dice places a hand on the Devil in attempt to comfort him. “A-am I going too fast?” Dice shifts in his spot.

Suddenly, pink tinted tears begin to well in the Devil’s eyes. “Fuck,” the Devil’s voice already tainted with apprehension.

Dice scoots closer, waiting for the Devil to calm himself down.

“I,” he sniffles, “I just don’t want you to leave me,” the Devil’s tears' fight their way out.

Dice searches the Devil’s face for a reasoning, “No, I, why would I leave you?” Dice says rather dumbfounded- if anything he was hoping the Devil would never leave him.

“If, I,” the Devil braces himself for ridicule, “If I do that inside you, then you're damned.” There’s a pause, “forever...”

“You mean like, I’ll go to Hell?” Dice considers this with heavy thoughts.

“Yeah...”

Silence settles between them.

“I mean...” Dice begins, “I don’t mind if I’m with you...”

There’s more silence.

“...Really?” The Devil raises his head to Dice.

“Yeah I mean,” Dice laughs at himself softly, “I’m definitely not going up there I know that much.”

The Devil laughs at the truth. “I mean, I can like,” he has a hopeful glint in his eyes, “give you perks so it won’t be as...”

“Torturous,” Dice laughs masking how unsettling this actually is.

“I mean more so,” the Devil takes a deep breath, “We’ll be together...”

Dice’s face flushes.

“Well, going to Hell never seemed as bad until I met you,” Dice laughs softly.

This time the silence eases the both of them.

“Let’s...” The Devil pauses, “wait, or use a condom or something.” The Devil locks his eyes with Dice.

“Until we know we’re ready.”

Dice nods. “Yeah,” Dice maintains eye contact.

“Yeah,” he says again to himself.

The Devil wrings his wrists, “Sorry for killing the mood.”

Dice chuckles, “I’ve dealt with worse.” The Devil doesn’t know how to interpret that- but then he remembers Dice’s old stripping days.

“And, I don’t mind anyway, I’m glad we talked about it,” Dice huffs, “It’s a lot but, at least we talked about it.”

The Devil nods, inwardly knowing he has more to talk about- but he’ll save it for another time.


	14. Cuddle Me Pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dice finishes lasagna while Dev finishes HIM. 
> 
> They also cry over split milk

The Devil’s cock twitches, reminding him of its presence and specifically a wasted opportunity. He can’t help but keep his thoughts focused on the curse that has befallen him. Why must his Dad intervene in his relationship in such a personal way?

 

“Hey,” Dice drags him out of his thoughts, “It’s okay.” Restating his reassurance, although the Devil can tell how unsatisfied he is regardless.

 

Dice’s eyes travel to the Devil’s cock, watching it go flaccid as its owner continues to rid himself of regret and guilt. Dice watches as the Devil balls his fist up full of his thigh’s fur, his eyes starting to pour bubblegum tears.

 

And he begins to weep.

 

Dice starts to flounder, not knowing what to do with his hands. He lowers his legs, no longer cowering his member with his legs but instead with a blanket. He brings an arm to wrap around the Devil’s waist. He brings his hand to meet the Devil’s once more, removing his form wiping his tears. A few hics and sniffs and the Devil’s head is laid upon Dice’s generous thighs and drowned half chub. Despite the awkwardness that should stem from this, pure sympathy and their heavy hearts are the culprits.

 

Dice’s eyes wrinkle with guilt, he can’t help but feel responsible for the Devil’s dreadful yet slow weeping. The kind only a heart filled with not just sadness, but years upon years of pent-up insecurities coming to light, spilling from its owners’ tired weary eyes. The eyes that Dice found too hardened for the public but only soft and endearing for him, being taken advantage by the bittersweet bubblegum tears…

 

Dice brings a hand to caress the Devil’s fur, starting from between his horns to the nape of his neck. The first pet sending a shiver through both of them, garnering a sharp inhale from the Devil at the gentle touch. Dice’s other hand slowly makes its way to rub the side of the Devil’s arm, allowing him to continue to cover his face as he rides out the storm. His body rocks as more of these tears slip across his face and onto the blanket.

 

Dice coos as he continues to pet him, soft longing pets, one by one giving ease to the Devil. After a while, the Devil’s weeping turns into tired huffing and then into deep breaths guided by Dice. The Devil’s eyes have trouble staying open, each pet from Dice making him remember how absolutely tiring crying is.

 

The Devil yawns as he pushes his head into Dice’s thighs, and soon his hands reflexively clinging to the blankets in small squeezes. 

 

Dice is caught off guard from the low humming that vibrates from the back of the Devil’s throat.

 

Purring?

 

Dice tries to keep his giggles to himself as he continues to pet his lover.

 

“Are you… falling asleep?” Dice asks in a docile tone, leaning close to the Devil’s exposed ear. Dice brings his manicured nails to scratch right behind it, getting a groan in response. Dice feels his abdomen stir, and in order to not ruin this precious moment with his lust, he returns to petting.

 

“N…no…” The Devil says hazily, clearly not convincing for either of them.

 

“I don’t mind if you sleep here,” Dice begins, subconsciously scratching behind the Devil’s ear deeply, all four fingers digging and pulling roughly but gently. Dice presses his thighs together, feeling the heat in his abdomen extending to his cock.

 

The Devil lets out another groan, this one more dragged out and higher pitched. He grasps the blankets tightly as he merely nods.

 

Dice inwardly scolds himself and removes his hand altogether.

 

“Here,” He gestures to his second pillow, patting it, “You can lay here.”

 

The Devil drags his sluggish form beside Dice, already half asleep from such comforting scents and touching.

 

Dice on the other hand cursing at his high libido.

 

He sucks in as much air as discreetly as possible before letting out a shaky exhale. Despite attempting to keep his dilemma to himself the Devil notices.

 

“Do you want me to help with that?” The Devil yawns out, having trouble keeping at least one eye open.

 

The Devil even offering to help with a lewd act in such a precious position- although unlike his public demeanor- throws Dice in for a loop. Even when the Devil isn’t even trying he just eludes dominance, doesn’t he?

 

Dice finds himself staring until he covers his crotch with his hands he notices the tent he created once more and fumbles with his words.

 

“I-! N-no! It’s fine, you should rest!” Dice gives an unsure smile, “I can take care of it myself…!” He waves off the Devil with a hand.

 

A sleepy chuckle leaves the Devil’s lips. “Dice after all this time you’re still the same, aren’t you?” The Devil looks into the eyes of his precious flower.

 

Dice is merely confused, “I- what?” His blush deepens. The Devil just knows how to leave him undone, bring him back to his natural state of being.

 

A prissy, stuttering, mess of a man.

 

Dice struggles to even his breathing as his hands cover his bulge, the blankets teasing the head of his cock. He hates being so sensitive sometimes. His gazes fall to his lap as he takes a few breaths, he was almost sure that this shouldn’t count as edging- especially when he was left blue balled a little while ago.

 

“I know I said I can’t cum inside you but,” The Devil stirs, seeing Dice get worked up over his choice of words, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t help you out a bit.” The Devil brings a lazy hand to Dice’s thigh, Dice nearly jumping. The Devil can see plain as day how touch starved Dice is and has been, for so long.

 

Dice makes an effort to formulate a response, but all that comes out is a befuddled moan. His cock quick to reply from the simple graze of the Devil’s claw.

 

“O-o,” Dice starts, caught off guard by the Devil already palming the head of his cock, “a-ah!” He bites his bottom lip and tries again, “O-okay,” the Devil’s palm smoothers against the head harder, “mm- as, as long as you get… your rest, a-afterwards.” Dice chokes out, his toes begin to curl.

 

Dice moans in pure bliss as the Devil continues to work his cock through the blanket. The added friction and now slow strokes making his eyes roll to the back of his head. Dice covers his mouth as he moans uncontrollably, his other hand reaching to grab his pillow. He brings the pillow to his chest, squeezing it against him while the Devil’s grip tightens as well.

 

“I want- “Dice gasps, “I want to feel your hand,” He pushes down the blanket to mid-thigh level, exposing his cock to the cool air, sending a chill down his spine.

 

The Devil laughs groggily, still tired but holding on to his last shred of consciousness in the desire of pleasing his lover. It’s best if at least one of them is satisfied.

 

The Devil’s calloused leathery hand grasps Dice’s shaft, thumbing just underneath the head, the tip of his claw poking slightly into it. The Devil holds this position as Dice clings to his pillow for life support, sure to blow his load any moment from now.

 

With painfully slow pumps, Dice cries out in an orgasm, his cum splattering onto the pillow and undoubtedly onto the Devil’s hand as he jerks him into the orgasm’s aftershock. Dice moans out his Boss’ name in sultry ecstasy, calming from his edged orgasm.

 

“Fuck why must you,” Dice covers his blushing face, “Only you...” He huffs out, pouting.

 

The Devil merely yawns in response, his hand still clasped around Dice’s softening cock.

 

Dice gawks at the realization of what’s happening. He releases the Devil’s hold on his cock, but before placing it where it belongs he sees how absolutely drenched it is with his cum. On one hand, he enjoys the sight, but on the other-

 

Dice laughs as his train of thought, he needs to go clean his boyfriend’s hand.

 

Dice slips out of his floor ridden bed, swiping up his pajamas from a drawer as he paces to the bathroom. After a quick well practiced bathing of his member, he puts on his pajamas. Then gathers a few wet wipes for his mess. Once returning to the bed, he cleans his boyfriend’s hand and then dampens the cum stains on his pillow, and the few droplets that made it to his blanket. Upon finishing, he turns his attention to see that the Devil has fallen fast asleep.

 

Dice gets a fleeting thought about how his cock must still be unsheathed, he dismisses it upon acknowledging how weird it would be to put his sleeping lover’s cock back _inside_ himself. Surely it’s something the Devil would want to do without assistance- albeit a rather creepy undertone type of assistance.

 

Dice finding free time in his hands decides to clean up even further, the ‘clutter’ in his studio starting to annoy him. He makes quick work of putting away his tossed clothes, and then heads into the kitchen area where he-

 

His lasagna!

 

Dice shrieks as he picks up the scent of char, rushing to his oven. He mutters prayers to the universe as he scatters about looking for his damn mittens. Dropping them a few times as he tries to put them on he continues to curse at himself until he opens the oven’s door.

 

He coughs at the rush of smoke into his face, trying to fan it away, the scent of burnt cheese twisting his mustache.

 

Yet by a stroke of good luck, his lasagna is only slightly burned.

 

‘Slightly’.

 

Dice heaves a sigh of relief, his perfectionist tendencies urging him to make another batch of lasagna, but his budget plan telling him to make it work.

 

Dice carefully grabs the handles of the pan and brings the lasagna to the counter. He looks over his partially ruined dinner and concludes the best way to redeem the dish is to scrape away the burned areas. He’s seen the chef get away with it pretty often, so it shouldn’t be too hard.

 

Dice grabs a knife from the block and hovers it over the worst area and then pauses. If he were to scrap away this scab, there would a hole exposing the layer underneath! And if he were to cut through the lasagna right now it would be a soupy mess that hasn’t had a chance to properly solidify in its stack!

 

Dice hates cooking sometimes.

 

He huffs in defeat. He supposes the Devil will have to see him at his lowest.

 

Dice picks up the pan once more and slides it back into the oven, realizing he continued to let the oven run under his dramatic pondering, he shuts it off.

 

Dice taps his foot in boredom, he could continue cleaning the place, but he already did that this morning. The only other way to spend his time is to sleep. At this point, napping and cleaning are at the top of his checklist on every day he gets off.

 

Dice climbs back into the bed with his boyfriend, only to have his hearing breached with low snoring. Dice should’ve expected this, and yet it catches him off guard anyway. Of course, an archaic being snores, the Devil’s _half-brother himself_ probably snores.

 

Dice can’t help but find it kind of cute and without second guessing pats the Devil’s head right between his horns. A low purr interrupts the snoring, and Dice audibly lets out an “Aw!”

 

After petting his lover a few more times in adoration, finding himself sinking closer and closer into the mattress, and soon shuffling close to him. Dice puts an end to the petting and instead wraps his arm around his boyfriend. He on instinct scoots closer into the Devil, engulfing himself into the warmth and security the being emanates.

 

And he too falls asleep.


End file.
